Chapter 1: Potter (Bad) Luck
Chapter Text
“Harry Potter?”
Dumbledore’s words seemed to echo in the unprecedently quiet great hall. The room could be full of screams from the Weasley twin's latest prank and Harry still wouldn’t hear anything over the sound of the blood rapidly pumping in his body.
A great weight seemed to droop over Harry’s shoulders as he hunched in on himself.
Slowly a whisper seemed to creep around him, not able to make eye contact for what he might see Harry tried to blend into the table. Alas, it was not meant to be.
“Harry Potter,” Dumbledore said more sure now, a sense of command in his voice as his eyes trailed up and down the Gryffindor house table clearly looking for the unruly mop of black hair that would signify one Harry James Potter.
“No-o,” Harry managed to gasp out as hell started to break loose. The previously quiet headmasters from the visiting schools were clearly not a fan of this development as their bickering became shouts.
A hand on his shoulder had Harry jerking to the side only to see Fred Weasley’s face, full of concern and something else Harry couldn’t quite distinguish. Ron’s presence had disappeared at some point as the older Weasley brother took his place.
“Hey, it’s okay-” Fred seemed to cut himself off realizing that platitudes were an inch away from lies. The lack of grin or otherwise Cheshire smile spoke to the severity of the situation almost more than seeing Fred on his own.
How could he be okay? The bloody blasted tournament that Harry wanted no part of was coming back to bite him not on the arse but directly at the throat.
“Shhh, I’ve got you,” Fred said as he tentatively slid his hand toward the center of Harry’s back.
Harry didn’t realize he wasn’t breathing until his lungs started to burn like he had taken a shot of fire whiskey down the wrong pipe. Taking in a large gasp of air Harry tried to reel in his fraying nerves, it would do him no good to have a breakdown now after so many years. Crying only ever got him pain at the Dursley’s whether it was Aunt Petunia’s wooden spoon and insults or Uncle Vernon’s belt and clammy hands, both always used to land him in the cupboard. He had learned long ago that the luxury of working through emotions was not one that he had been afforded.
“Mr. Potter come up here this instance!” Dumbledore’s voice must have been amplified somehow as the sound seemed to quiet the rebellious students and staff. Looking up Harry saw a ball of light floating over his head, it might have been pretty if it weren’t the harbinger of his probable death. Looking closely Harry didn’t think it was too different from a Lumos.
With little choice in the matter Harry tried standing, realizing that his efforts were futile as black spots clouded his vision, shaky legs gave way as he slumped back onto the bench. Fred’s steadying grasp was stabilizing but Harry didn’t want to get used to it, he couldn’t afford the comfort.
On the second attempt, Harry’s legs managed to cooperate as he forced his feet towards the front staff tables, getting directed into the backroom, presumably where the other champions waited. Fred had escorted him this far but a few stern words from McGonagall had him turning back away, a resigned look on his face but a promise to meet up again before the night was over.
What happened next was a blur as Harry watched the room degrade into madness.
Snape, McGonagall, Dumbledore, Maxime, Bagman, Carkaroff, Moody, Sprout… All of their voices bounced around in his head as he walked back to the Gryffindor common room like a spooked animal. His own Head of House refused to escort him back as she had other duties, meanwhile, Professor Sprout had been eager to see Cedric back to the Hufflepuff common room in the lower portion of the castle.
“You will participate in the tournament-” Dumbledore had said.
Those damning words had hit Harry in the soul. A strange sensation had trickled over Harry as the others agreed that Harry would either compete in the tournament per the magically binding contract, or forfeit his magic, and possibly his life. As he accepted his fate and that no one on the staff would help him the weight that seemed to surround his body sunk into him, his flesh had radiated with the power that he knew was the magic of the Goblet of Fire.
It was a strange sensation, not unlike the power that seemed to radiate off of the other ancient magical artifacts Harry had held. Gryffindor’s sword had seemed to imbue Harry with a sense of courage and charisma, Flamel’s stone had felt refreshing and greedy, the Goblet though felt like competitive energy and righteousness.
The Magic of the goblet had swirled in Harry’s core now for the last hour as he wandered the empty castle corridors hoping to be able to sneak into the common room when the rest of Gryffindor had already fallen to sleep. Finally feeling his own exhaustion Harry knew he would have to actually face the lion’s den sooner rather than later. Making his way past the fat lady Harry was blasted awake by the raging music in the Gryffindor common room. Someone had the wireless on with a sonorous charm amplifying the Weird Sisters throughout the room.
It was 11 in the evening for Merlin’s sake… Harry just wanted to go to sleep.
“HARRY!” One of the Creevey brothers yelled out, Harry wasn’t sure which one.
Fuck me, Harry was not looking forward to this.
“Congratulations mate,” someone in the back said spurring on a wave of renewed excitement and a flickering of bright lights from a camera.
“Gryffindor for the Tri-Wizard Tournament!!!”
“The Boy Who Lived! Champion of Hogwarts!”
“Let’s go Potter!”
Harry felt drowned as he stumbled through the sea of students. I just want to go to fucking sleep, cut this bloody crap out. Harry wished he had enough Gryffindor courage to make his thoughts known but he couldn’t muster the words. Remaining silent was already an impressive feat considering he just wanted to scream, and maybe punch whoever was taking photos.
A whistle shot through the room, a very recognizable sound to many as its unordinary toon brought a hush to the chattering students.
“How about we give him some space to rest you mangy lot? Hmm?” George’s voice seemed to snap the group out of their revelry as some people started to look at Harry’s clearly drained form.
“I’ll take him up,” Fred volunteered, some unspoken communication passing between him and George that Harry could never even hope to understand. Just because Harry could tell the twins apart didn’t mean he knew how to understand their mysterious ways any more than the average person could, their motivations were chaotic as much as they were meticulously planned.
Finally making his way up the steps Harry was thankful to be rid of the loud music and what was sure to be an all-night banger. Lions were apparently party animals as Harry had discovered early on in his first year at the ripe age of 12.
Stopping outside of the door that separated his dorm room Harry stood for a second. He knew he would have to face his dorm mates eventually, and that included Ron. The fickle redhead was one of the most disappointed of the younger years that he couldn’t participate in the tournament and had thought that Harry was ‘barmy’ for not wanting to compete and saying the tournament was too dangerous.
“Hey, it's alright,” Fred said with a tentative smile. “I’m with you on this one-”
“I didn’t do it,” Harry said immediately. He needed someone to believe him. Anyone…
“You mean you didn’t willingly enter into the tournament that you called a deadly waste of time that you wanted no part of? Who would have guessed?” Fred said with a flourish of his hand leaning back against the wall, the ghost of a smirk creeping onto his lips.
“Git,” Harry muttered out as he looked down at the floor. What right did Fred have to be that adorable in a time like this when all Harry wanted to do was sulk and panic? It wasn’t fairrr.
“Hey chin up Harry, let’s head in and see how Ronnikins is doing… I wasn’t too keen on his reaction at dinner,” Fred said as the smile disappeared from his face. Harry was definitely afraid as he opened the door.
Luckily, or unluckily, all of his dorm mates sat awake on their separate beds, the lights still on.
“Harry,” Neville gasped out as he stood. He was clearly unsure of what to do as he continued to stand, uncertainty etched into his features as he shifted his weight back and forth like a rabbit ready to spring away.
“Ney Nev,” Hary mumbled out as he glanced at the other three boys in the dorm. Dean and Seamus both looked curious but otherwise unconcerned and Ron… Oh. Yeah, he was furious.
“Harry Fucking Potter is back everyone,” Ron growled out as he jerked his body up out of bed, the stench of liquor surrounding him had Harry wanting to choke. Vernon was always worse when he was drunk.
“Ron-” Harry tried but knew it was pointless as the redhead's eyes narrowed.
“I hope you’re bloody happy you right piece of shite!” Ron scowled as he swayed on his feet walking towards Harry as quickly as a slug doused in salt.
“Listen to me!” Harry snapped. “I didn’t want this-”
“Oh so you put your name in for shits and giggles then?!” Ron snapped as he poked Harry in the shoulder. “Bollocks. You filthy liar, couldn’t get enough of being the Boy Who Lived, huh?”
Neville looked scared as his eyes jumped back and forth between the two fuming boys. Harry had come into the room demure, but now he looked ready to boil blood. Fred for his part hung back, observing, a strange place for the boisterous Weasley.
“I didn’t fucking put my name in you wanker!” Harry ground out.
“Ohh so Perfect Potter didn’t even have to do the dirty work himself. Who bent over to do it for you then huh?” Ron snarled out, a small string of spit flying from his mouth hit Harry’s glasses. Harry was starting to see more red than just the vibrant mop of hair on the ginger’s head.
“I don’t want to bloody compete in this stupid tournament!” Harry nearly screamed, hoping that someone had the sense to cast a silencing charm on the room.
“Oh yeah, and it really shows, you little fucking attention whore. Bet you’re loving it, that party down there, all the girls swooning over you. You could have let me in on it you know, you little filthy rat. A traitor just like Pettigrew-”
Harry didn’t see the fist coming. He didn’t expect it either. But there it was, a fist colliding with his face.
Harry had had his fair share of hits throughout the years, Dudley and his gang, Vernon’s bulbous knuckles, Petunia didn’t count but her frying pan was certainly an honorable mention, but somehow Ron’s relatively mild punch hurt the most.
The crunch that filled the room was sickening, it felt like a betrayal worse than any other Harry had ever had. But just like that Ron had punched him in the nose. The glasses he had since he was five crunched as they slid from his face shattering on the ground. Harry saw as Ron’s hand came flying back but he wasn’t about to take it a second time.
Ducking to the ground Harry did something he wasn’t used to doing to his aggressors.
Tackling the taller boy with his shoulder was relatively easy; despite growing up with so many siblings and having endured constant conflicts, Ron couldn’t fight for shit.
Straddling the other red head it was easy for Harry to pin the intoxicated redhead's fists to the ground. Ron was probably physically stronger despite his poor form, but Harry wasn’t an idiot. Somehow in the process of taking down the lanky redhead Harry’s knee had managed to hit Ron in his manhood hard enough to knock the wind from his body before he even collided with the floor.
Knowing when to stop Harry stood up leaving behind the quickest fight he had ever won. He didn’t know when his wand had come into his pocket but suddenly it was aimed at Ron a spell on his lips.
Harry’s hand haled as he considered the display in front of him. Ron had just hit him, probably broken his nose for that matter. He had insulted him and failed to trust him. Could he look at this person and say that he wanted to still call him a friend? People fought and reconciled, but that required trust and forgiveness, neither of which Harry felt like bestowing upon the cursing boy.
Settling for a silencing charm Harry was grateful as the moans of pain ceased.
“Wow, maybe he does have a chance after all,” Dean joked from where he now stood beside Neville.
“I’m on Ron’s side mate,” Seamus said casually as he stood up. “No way you just randomly got in, you had to want it, you should have helped the lots of us in mate.”
The Irish boy didn’t look angry but he was certainly upset.
Looking at his roommates all Harry felt was resignation, he would have to live like this, no one would believe him in the entire bloody fucking castle! Movement from behind him reminded Harry that that statement wasn’t entirely true.
“Well then, I think George will be having a bit of a talk with you Ickly-Ronnikins, hmm?” Fred’s voice had taken on a dangerous purr as he looked down at his brother who was only just starting to calm.
Harry was excited by the thought of what the twins might do to him, but he knew that it would only bring more conflict to the already tense dorm room.
“No it's fine Fred-”
“No no no, Harry, it's quite alright, I insist. George and him need to have some… Brotherly bonding,” Fred said finally looking at Harry’s face.
“Better get that looked at Potter,” Dean said as the blood from Harry’s nose started to drip to the ground. “We can’t have our champion wounded this early on.”
“Fuck off,” Harry snapped. He might be alienating people but he couldn’t care less, if they weren’t going to listen to reason he didn’t want to bother keeping up communication.
“Hey, I’m just trying to look after our champion’s health. You are in it now!” Dean’s proclamation seemed to be agreeable to Seamus who nodded his head as if that was the obvious conclusion to come to.
Harry was feeling a headache coming along, and he wasn’t sure if it was because of the idiot boys or the head trauma.
“Screw this,” Harry said as he turned towards the door. Neville remained shockingly silent as he wadded up a fistful of blanket in his hand.
“Where do you think you are going without your things Harry?” Fred asked with faux innocence, but Harry for his part had no clue what the taller boy was trying to hint at. “Grab your things, you are getting out of here.”
Fred winked at Harry, which really should have been illegal. At the very least it was emotional manipulation. Harry tried hiding his blush in a scowl, he wasn’t sure if it worked but no one seemed to be picking up on anything so he assumed things were fine.
“And where can I go exactly?” Harry managed to say over the pressure building in his head.
“Secret,” Fred responded while bouncing on the balls of his feet looking like an excited child. “Cross my heart, I promise that you will like it.”
Looking at his roommates Harry didn’t take long to come to a decision.
“Fine,” Harry said already wondering how quickly he could be packed.
“Excellent. I have just the helper in mind for you specifically. DOBBY!”
Harry felt enormously curious. That is until the all too familiar elf appeared in front of him.
In the span of a few seconds, the tennis ball-sized eyes had locked onto Harry’s, and it took no further persuasion for Dobby to spring at Harry. Flinching Harry braced himself as the elf lunged into his arms crying. Dobby was at Hogwarts?
“Great Master Harry Potter sir has need of Dobby!”
“Hey I’m the one who called you-” Fred started petulantly. He still seemed amused though, whether at the situation Harry found himself in or Dobby firmly ignoring him Harry didn’t know.
“Dobby, Harry here needs his things packed up in his trunk quickly do you think you can handle that?”
“Can Dobby’s handle that… Anything for the Great Harry Potter!” With the snap of his fingers, Harry watched in awe as a packing spell more impressive than anything Mrs. Weasley had ever done had Harry’s laundry folded, books organized, parchment straightened, and everything compartmentalized in less than a minute.
“May I burns this Master Harry?” Dobby asked as he held up what was once a sock. It was now so holey and stained that Harry didn’t think it qualified as rag material.
Dobby was clearly now a connoisseur of socks. While he wore the sock that Harry had gifted him after the Chamber of Secrets incident proudly on his left foot it stuck out as clearly inferior quality compared to the silk, arguile, and wool socks he now sported across his… eclectic outfit.
Harry felt great shame looking at the offending garment thinking once more about the Dursleys.
“Incinerate it,” Harry mustered up.
The vindictive elf's eyes seemed to light up as the sock burst into flames. A satisfied smile peeked through Dobby’s face, equal parts jubilant and terrifying. “Where’s would Masters like his things?”
“I can take it from here Dobby,” Fred tried but Dobby was not having it.
“Nos. You red devils are not to bes trusted,” Dobby said wagging a finger at Fred.
Looking at his other roommates Harry just wanted to leave. Ron had managed to fall asleep on the floor but Neville continued to stare clearly unsure of what the hell was going on and honestly Harry felt the same.
“Let’s just go,” Harry managed to speak over Dobby and Fred’s minor quarrel that had broken out.
“I can carries the trunk thens,” Dobby said confidently when considering the trunk was close to seven times his body size.
“Fine. Right this way gentle-man and traitorous elf,” Fred said begrudgingly as Dobby blew a raspberry at him. Harry was surrounded by idiots. Some were loveable idiots, but still.
Walking out of the dorm Harry heard some noise of complaint but it was quickly blocked by the sound of the door slamming.
“Ronnikins?” George asked from where he leaned against the wall outside of Harry’s (old) dorm.
How long had he been waiting there for…?
“Ronnikins.” Frede repeated.
Silence followed as the twins seemed to have one of their silent conversations. Harry’s leading theory was that the twins had some sort of psychic connection but when he had asked Ron and Hermione about it the first year both of them had laughed at his feeble idea. While Harry hated Divination with a passion and wished he could drop he had learned some useful info about other mental arts, and he did now know that such things weren’t completely unheard of. Watching them now Harry felt like he could still be onto something.
“Well Harrykins looks like you are gonna be let in on a secret,” George finally said breaking eye contact with Fred.
Dobby had somehow managed to remain entirely quiet, but upon glancing at the small figure Harry was slightly weirded out to see that he was lovingly running his hand across the spot where ‘Harry Potter’ was carved into the trunk that floated beside the elf.
I need a vacation from people, Harry decided.
“Follow if you dare,” George said with a menacing tone of voice and a wiggle of his eyebrows.
Harry had surprisingly enough not explored much of Gryffindor Tower outside of his own dorm room and the common room. Well. There had been the one time he tested the limits of the girls staircase and figured out how to get up the enchanted entrance way… But that had been a one-time thing and he had yet to tell a soul about his mini adventure.
As the group walked farther up the stairs passing by different dorm rooms Harry wondered if he was going to see the twins room that they shared with Lee Jordan and Kenneth Towler. Lee was a constant in the twin's lives but Harry only knew of their other roommate passively. He was surprised as the group came to a stop on a floor halfway between one set of dorm rooms and the next. There was a narrow hallway that seemed to lead to where Harry would guess the girl's staircase ran.
How had he never noticed this small corridor’s existence? It wasn’t even hidden!
“This is mostly used by prefects and McGonagall to make it easier to get from one side of the tower to the other without going all the way to the common room,” Fred explained having caught site of Harry’s curious face.
That made sense. Still, Harry clearly had to step up his game. He had the Marauders Map for crying out loud and he didn’t see the hallway right next to his bedroom? He wasn’t that blind…
“We however will be using this fine place for a slightly different purpose,” George said with a mischievous tapping of fingers like a cartoon supervillain.
Looking at an empty frame Harry was confused by what they might be expecting. It was pretty enough with gilded edges and an interesting pattern, but he supposed that you couldn’t take most things at Hogwarts for face. There were armor sets that danced, stairs that moved, mouse holes that could be expanded into doorways, and curtains that turned into fabric ladders. A portrait could be an entrance to a room or a hidden tunnel through the castle and Harry could only guess what nefarious things the twins knew.
Fred and George seemed to share another silent conversation before simultaneously whispering the current Gryffindor common room password. The door flung open revealing…
“No bloody way…” Harry couldn’t believe his traitorous eyes.
“Yes way-” George said in a sing-song voice.
“Welcome to the entrance to the Gryffindor common room,” Fred continued where his brother left off.
“This, you could imagine, has been mighty useful-”
“Right bloody useful brother o’ mine-”
“And the fact that McGonogall doesn’t have a clue-”
“Superb!” The twins chorused together clearly pleased with themselves.
Harry found that odd considering the frame was literally the only ornamentation in the hallway but he didn’t want to start questioning things now, that usually jinxed it.
“Let’s just go before someone comes creeping by,” Harry said hoping that the twins didn’t pick up on any of his ill-placed fondness for them. It wouldn’t do to show them that kind of weakness, Harry shivered at the thought and internally smirked to himself glad to have at least someone semi-competent on his side… if not a bit deranged.
“Right you are-” George started.
“Harry of mine,” Fred finished while receiving an elbow to his side from George.
“Harrikins,” George stated while scowling at his twin. Fred didn’t seem perturbed as he closed the portrait revealing a snoring Fat Lady.
Turning towards Dobby Harry was slightly terrified to see the elf with a serious expression, hand still absentmindedly tracing Harry’s trunk.
“No intruders this’s ways Master Harry sirs, but Mistress Kitty Catty bes nearby,” Dobby said as if reporting from a scouting mission. Harry wasn’t about to question the elf and it seems neither were Fred and George.
“This way then,” George stated, quieter now that they knew of the potential threat.
Harry followed the twins through their weird twists and turns, Dobby alerting them to any upcoming dangers meant that the group needn’t have worried, his skills were on par with the Marauder’s Map Harry had ended up pulling out just to be safe.
Going up and down stairs Harry honestly could say he had no clue what floor they were on or what part of the castle they were in. Hogwarts was huge, there were entire wings of the castle that had rotted away and collapsed in. Walking through a particularly dusty corridor had Dobby close to feral as he berated his fellow elves' work. Harry didn’t want to get involved in that drama but it was interesting hearing what constituted to Dobby as an insult.
“They don’t know the difference between a scouring and scraping! No’s they don’t…”
Finally, the twins stopped at the base of a narrow tower that at one point probably served as lookout during the Witch Trials.
“Harry, we trust you-” Fred looked sheepish as he looked on at the raven-haired boy.
“But. We need to make sure you know that this has to stay between us,” George finished with a great amount of excitement radiating off of him but also fear.
Harry was no fool. He would never betray the twin's trust. He also knew that this was a test, and what he said definitely mattered.
“I understand, I promise that I won't speak on-”
“Not so fast Harry. Remember, oaths can mean things here to magicals,” Fred chimed in slightly fearful.
Harry remembered the story of how the younger twins had tried to convince a small Ron to make an Unbreakable Oath. Harry gulped at the implications. He needed to get better about his wording, but that also gave him plenty of ideas he would need to think about.
Looking up at the twins Harry felt renewed motivation.
Taking out his wand Harry felt a sense of right, he was doing good. “I Harry James Potter swear on my magic that I will not purposely, of my own will and volition, spill the secrets of Fredrick Fabian-”
A laughing startled Harry out of his speech. “Harry, my full name isn’t Fredrick Fabian… it's Fredrick Gideon Weasley… George’s middle name is Fabian. We switched them around when we started Hogwarts to confuse people.”
“Even worked on Mom,” George let out an uneasy chuckle that had Harry cringing internally.
“Right well, Fredrick Gideon Weasley and George Fabian Weasley as it pertains to this location and its contents… Unless necessary for someone’s health or safety or in the matter of any criminal activity,” Harry hoped they could forgive him for the tact on the addendum but given their innocent smiles Harry figured he was probably okay. Harry really couldn’t preach the virtue of following the law himself after all. “So mote it be.”
Upon finishing his vow Harry was crashed into by identical red-headed bafoons. The arms surrounding his body were constricting but comforting, not that Harry would let the menaces know that.
“Thank you-”
“Thank you-”
“Thank you!” The twins finished together.
A large kiss to his cheek from Fred had Harry momentarily stunned but it was over quickly as Dobby finally grew impatient.
“Where’s will Master Harry’s things bes going?” Dobby asked, cold eyes falling on Fred for some reason. Harry didn’t know why the elf was suddenly so icy towards the ginger demon.
“Ah yes, right this way monsieur,” Fred tapped the front of the door with his wand only for it to disintegrate into smoke.
“Walk right on through Harrikins,” George said smoothly.
“Welcome to the Chaos Forge as we have so lovingly named it,” Fred said wiping a fake tear from his eye.
The place was truly a masterpiece, what they had managed to do with the space was rather impressive just with Harry’s untrained eyes. The room was tall with several pipes lining the walls carrying strange fluids and shimmering gases, organized wires ran between. Rows of semi-organized shelves ran through the room, stacked with bins and other small objects, labeled in Fred and Goerge’s bubbly script. A large flat table sat in the center of the room covered in stacks of paper, with a pinboard surrounding it. Harry noticed two cubicles in the back that had Harry wanting to choke on his restrained laughter. Who would have thought the twins would work at a desk willingly?
Dobby seemed to give a nod to show his approval which for whatever reason had Fred let out a choked breath and the doofus nodded his head wildly in thanks. Harry chose to ignore their strange antics.
“Well then, this is our main inventory room and brainstorm pit, downstairs is the potion lab basement, second floor is the tinkering workshop, third floor is mine, and fourth is Fred’s. You Harrikins will get the privilege to stay on the fifth!” George started marching towards a staircase Harry hadn’t noticed against the right wall through a low arch.
“Me and Gred here sometimes need to stay the night for our ugh… More delicate merchandise,” Fred said not confusing Harry for a second. He had figured out who was who and nothing they would do would get him mixed up.
Fred seemed to realize this as he shared a knowing glance with his brother.
“Of course, this tower has more to offer than just pranks. It has been a nice place to escape from student life for a bit,” George said with a shutter.
“And now it has the illustrious honor of housing, sir Harry Potter,” Fred said with a bow and wink. Dobby looked furious.
“Stupid devils…” The elf muttered as he disappeared with Harry’s trunk.
Passing by the twin's separate floors Harry wondered what it was like having this be the first time they were allowed separate rooms. Harry was sure that the twins absolutely loved each other and would probably never live apart from their counterparts. But he knew they also needed some independence from their mirror self. Harry would do quite a lot for a bedroom he could call his own, his cupboard, Dudley’s spare room, and the Gryffindor boy’s dormitory certainly didn’t count. Harry thought back to the pictures of his nursery he had seen in the photo album Professor Lupin had given him before he left his fourth year.
Finally stopping at the door Harry figured that he had gotten lost in thought. The twins didn’t seem to notice as they opened the door with a flourish and, “ta-da!!!”
Dobby stood in the center of the room bouncing on his feet. “I will get it clean for Master Harry Pottter sir!” And with a snap of his fingers, Harry watched in amazement as the room became alight with magic.
The thin layer of dust that managed to build up on the floor was swept away just for a wave of mysterious green fluid spilled over the floor leaving behind a polished stone stone surface. The cobwebs in the corners were twirled by dusters, the cracks blown out by billows, a soapy sponge flew at the dirty window pain of the floor-length glass expanse, pink bubbles floated about. Magic. Was. Awesome.
Dobby stood in the center of the chaos letting off snaps and waving his fingers like a conductor of the sudsy symphony.
“You have a talented elf Mr. Potter,” George chuckled.
“Oh Dobby is a free elf-” Harry’s words were cut off by a loud yelp.
“What?” Fred and George proclaimed both looking worried, even by their standards.
“Uhm, he was unhappy under his previous masters and I helped free him…” Harry wondered how the twins knew of Dobby in the first place.
“Harry… House-elves are magical creatures that manifest from great concentrations of family magics. They- they- uhm…” Fred looked very uncomfortable as he weighed the thoughts in his head.
“They die if they remain unbound,” Gorge offered as his twin sputtered.
Harry thought on the words for several seconds reeling from the new information. “Dobby!?”
Harry thought the elf was entirely insane and quite possibly a stalker, but despite this, he liked the highly emotional soul (he could do without the sniffling though).
“Yes Master Harry Potter sir? Oh great Master Harry called Dobby,” Dobby cried out as he popped into place beside Harry already jumping for a surprise hug.
“Dobby. I uhm. Is it true that without being bound a house elf will perish?” Harry tried asking gently hoping that perhaps the Weasley twins were just misinformed.
Wiping his eyes Dobby seemed confused by the questioning. Leaning back on his feet Dobby started to shift back and forth, “Yes Master Harry Potter sir. We elves binds to a fam-ly, witches or wizards, places, or even beasties. If a good elf-sie is to go unbound for too long they fade, no more.”
Harry felt like he had just been slapped. Had he accidentally set Dobby into motion to die?!
“I- Dobby! Are you okay? I didn’t know I swear, I never meant to harm you, how do I fix this? Please!” Harry felt slightly hysterical, but he hoped the twins could forgive his outburst. He had just been told he was probably going to die this year, and now he was figuring out that he might have accidentally killed a kind-of-friend.
“Bad Dobby. Stupid Dobby-” Dobby slapping himself was a horrifying scene, Harry had almost hoped the elf had gotten over the self-harming tendencies.
“No please Dobby, don’t hurt yourself,” Harry tried but the elf wouldn’t listen.
“That’s quite enough of that don’t you think,” George said as he grabbed Dobby’s small hand gently.
“You aren’t in any trouble, you didn’t do anything wrong. Harry here, and us, are worried about you,” Fred gently patted Dobby in between the shoulder blades, the redhead had to bend down quite a bit to make the gesture.
“You’s bes worried about Dobby?”
Harry knew where this was going.
After the elf had once more flung himself at Harry crying the three students were able to wrangle the elf into sitting down and talking with them. Thankfully it seem that Dobby had managed to negotiate a contract with Hogwarts where he would work for the school but would not respond to any authority figure within as a master. He had also secured wages which he used to afford his exotic sock collection.
“That’s a relief. I didn’t know if I qualified for you to bind yourself to me or not-” Harry had meant the words to be under his breath but clearly Dobby had heard him.
“The Great Master Harry Potter wants Dobby as HIS ELF?!”
“Well if it was to help you of course-” Harry’s words were cut off as Dobby fainted.
Fred laughed like a lunatic as Harry panicked and George just sighed saying he had enough for the night and was heading to bed. Harry couldn’t blame him.
As Dobby started to stir Harry wondered what he might have to face. Blinking awake Dobby looked at Fred who had managed to catch the elf, and then Harry who remained fidgeting. Suddenly Dobby was awake as ever once more.
“Please Master Harry Potter sirs, I want to be your elf-sie!” Dobby wailed as he leaned on the floor crying fat crocodile tears. Surely he was becoming dehydrated, his small body couldn’t hold that much liquid!
“Uhm, I…” Honestly, Harry didn’t know the first thing about having a house elf. And how was Harry’s magic supposed to keep Dobby alive, was the elf going to be a parasite?
“I promise to be a good elf-sie! I cleans, cook, launder, I wasn’t very good in the gardens, too many big fancy birds… But I can learns!”
Harry wondered if there was any scenario where he was getting out of this without an elf. “Look Dobby…”
Dobby’s bright eyes stared up at him with such intensity and hope that Harry knew he was a gonnner. What were Hermione and Neville always calling it? His saving people thing… Curse them.
“What would being bound to you entail on my end?” Harry hoped the elf didn’t start crying again so soon.
“Simple Master Harry sir! Your magic would ground me’s. It is a deal. Yous make me whole and I help take care of yous,” Dobby said it so excitedly that even Fred took a second glance at the little spitfire. “Please bind to me Master Harry sir!”
Looking at Fred was all Harry had left but of course, the redhead was a traitor who only held up his thumb as a go-ahead and smirked. Harry wanted to smack his pretty head.
“Fine,” Harry tried his best not to sound overwhelmed. “How do we do this exactly?”
“YESSS!” Dobby seemed drunk as he did a twirl and threw a couple of socks into the air. In the background, Harry could have sworn that he saw some of the cleaning products dancing.
“All you have to dos is let me taste your magic, then allow your magic to keep me,” Dobby stated simply.
Yeah, that made total sense. Just let him taste magic. What the fuck was that supposed to mean?!
“Okay Dobby… How do I do that exactly?” Harry hedged.
Dobby seemed to deflate a bit but only slightly. “Do wizards not be knowing how to release their magics?”
Harry tried the question on his brain. But unfortunately, he had no clue what precisely the elf meant. Harry could cast a spell but if that is all Dobby wanted then he would have surely stated as such.
“Dobby can teach yous,” the hunger in the elf’s eyes was terrifying. Harry had only ever seen such unrestrained desire in Professor Flitwick after Harry had accidentally but successfully charmed a teapot to sing different songs based on what kind of fluid was in it. Harry still shivered at the thought of the melancholy in the pot's voice when a poisoned brew was tested in the vessel.
“Focus nows Great Master Harry Potter sirs,” the determination in Dobby’s eyes almost had the large orbs shining. “Close you eyes-es. Now think deeplys. What does your magics feel like?”
Harry had to restrain the urge to pinch his brows. Eyes closed Harry felt slightly silly standing around as Fred and Dobby stared at him.
Trying to at least give a noble attempt Harry thought about what it felt like to use magic. The very first time he had picked up his wand it had been a fluttery feeling throughout his body. But that wasn’t entirely what magic was, after all, he had used magic before his wand hadn’t he? All of those incidents as a kid with accidental magic, even the blimb Marge incident…
His magic, what was it? Using magic was exhilarating, like riding a broom. It was empowering, it's how he had survived so many terrible situations. But magic wasn’t just a toy, it was something that he respected and revered.
A flicker of something in himself had Harry gasping. Oh… That was new, but also, not? He had lived with this magic within himself for his entire life, it was always there, but this was the first time he was really aware of it. Harry couldn’t really see anything, but it was almost like an awareness, magic was radiating through him but it was definitely constrained. Harry didn’t know entirely how he knew but he just did.
“This is weird.”
A chuckle had the hairs on Harry’s kneck raised. I didn’t mean to say that out loud! Okay, focus. Let’s get this over with…
How do I release magic? Uhm. Concentrating on where the magic seemed to naturally want to flow through his arms and legs into his abdomen and back out again Harry tried to imagine some of it flowing out of himself towards where he knew Dobby to be. It was odd, like when someone focuses on their blood flow. The average person doesn’t think about the fluid pumping through their body but once you bring attention to it its hard to forget.
“You’ve done it!”
Dobby’s screech had Harry’s eyes popping open as his soul tried to leave his body from the fright.
“Focus Great Master Harry Potter sir!” Dobby looked like a reptile basking as he tilted his chin into the air and stood still as a shimmer seemed to surround him.
Harry guessed that this was the time to accept the elf. Whatever that meant. Closing his eyes once more Harry got back to his little subconscious magical bubble, feeling about he felt where a small stream of his magic left his body and wrapped around a foreign entity. Well, he supposed that was probably just Dobby. Concentrating on the elf Harry felt the strange magic, it was very different than his own.
Wrapping his magic around the elf Harry felt as tentatively the two magics started to mingle a small portion of Harry’s magic fed into the small core and instantly there was a snap as the bond was set.
A gasp rang through the air as Harry opened his eyes, looking down at the elf Harry knew he needed to stock up on tissues. Dobby once more bawled into his shirt with Harry offering comfort to the sniffling ball. Harry wasn’t really used to all of the touchy-feely stuff but he knew the abused elf needed it. Harry would have been out of sorts himself if any of his primary teachers had decided to help him with the Dursleys.
“I think I’ll leave you to it for the night,” Fred said as he slowly backed towards the door taking dramatically spread-out steps. Stupid tall people.
“Wait!” Harry felt like something very major was being overlooked here. “I can do without, but is there any bedding by chance? Even a small blanket?”
Harry wondered if he could get away with making a next out of his winter clothes. Maybe Dobby could get some spare linens from wherever the house elves stored the laundry.
“Oh, uhm right…” Fred chuckled as he rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “I can call another elf-”
“Don’t you DARE.” Dobby’s head suddenly sprang up from Harry’s midsection. Apparently, he was territorial. “From nows on I be’s the Great Masters elf-sie!”
Dobby poked a narrow finger in Fred’s direction with a near-murderous expression that had the redhead taking a gulp.
“Right. Well… I will just take my leave then. Tomorrow’s Sunday so don’t worry about sleeping in. Toodles-”
Just like that Fred scampered off clearly afraid of whatever vengeance Dobby tried to take. A yelp was heard before Fred could close the door, Dobby was good with a stinging hex. Harry would take note of that little tidbit.
“I will gets you a bed for nows Master Harry Potter sir, and then we can gets you something befitting the Great Master Harry Potter.”
Dobby popped away before Harry could say another word. Letting out a well-deserved sigh Harry walked towards his trunk. He had gotten the absolute barebones and was now leaving to regret it. Neville’s trunk could be tipped on its side and turned into a walk. Even Ron’s trunk had an extended storage capacity!
Then again, flipping the latch of his trunk open, Harry was reminded that he didn’t have enough possessions to fill even his trunk. Hedwig's empty cage fit and he still had wiggle room for all of his clothes and two spare pairs of shoes. Luckily Dobby had cleaned the dirtier items before they had made their way in. Harry’s cheek reddened as he looked at a very familiar towel that would have been tucked into his hiding spot in his old Gryffindor bed frame. Harry hoped that no one had noticed the incriminating stains it had once had.
A loud plop was all the warning Harry received as a ginormous bed suddenly appeared in the room, Dobby bounced off of it and for all intents and purposes looked like a dog wagging its tail as he looked at Harry expectantly.
“I- Uhm. Thank you Dobby,” Harry didn’t think they made beds this large, the bed framed luckily didn’t take up much space but then again this new room was HUGE so it really wasn’t a problem per se.
Dobby held back tears but thankfully didn’t feel the need to tackle Harry.
“Two more things before I go to sleep. First, did you happen to figure out where the toilet and shower were located?” Harry crossed his fingers that somewhere in the twin's lab there was an actual full bathroom.
As Dobby pointed to a door Harry hadn’t noticed on the opposite wall from the stairs Harry silently thanked the twins again for their generosity.
“Thank you Dobby. Lastly-” Harry watched as Dobby nodded his head vigorously and wondered how strong the elf's spine must be to function as the support for a bobblehead. “Lastly, I want you to call me Harry. You don’t have to use any title to address me Dobby, we’re friends.”
As Dobby jumped into his arms Harry wondered if he could count this as Quidditch practice for next year. Why they canceled the extracurricular Harry could only imagine.
Finally getting the elf to calm down and leave for the night Harry was thankful for the peace. Going through his nighttime routine and abulitions Harry lay on his monstrous bed and felt as the aches from the day caught up to him. Eyes closed Harry felt a spike in his newly acquainted magic and that was it before he surrendered to sleep.
Chapter 2: Soirée in the Sand Man’s Land (with creatures)
Notes:
Harry wakes up to some big changes~
Just some style notes, "when you see speech text that is all italicized," it is a mental dialogue. In this chapter, you will see it utilized between Fred and George.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Floating through the void space Harry felt oddly calm surrounded by the eternal blackness that engulfed him. Cradled by an invisible force Harry was secure as he slowly mozzied through the chilling space. The waves of power lapping at his sides felt like great big dog kisses, the subtle reminder of Padfoot had Harry’s heart clenching, one of the first adults to show that they loved him unconditionally and they had only known each other for a couple of hours. Looking down at himself Harry mentally recoiled at his own appearance. Despite the lack of lighting Harry could see his naked body outlined with scare tissue and the brands of his more unsettling school adventures. Harry was ashamed to see some marks that he had long since thought faded.
A fizzing feeling seemed to bubble up inside of Harry distracting him from his downward spiral. The sensation of magic bubbling across Harry’s body from earlier lit up his nerves. Slowly Harry watched fascinated as a golden shimmer seemed to radiate off of his skin, Harry knew instinctually that this was his magic, swirls and sparks surrounded him like he was being doused with glitter.
As his excitement grew Harry wondered how he had never noticed such a wonderful part of himself, his figure might have been grotesque but Harry found his magic beautiful. Following a tugging Harry gazed out into the nothingness following a trail of his own magic. The foreign ball seemed to be outside of Harry’s domain but somehow he knew what he was looking at. Dobby…
The elf's magic was swirled with streaks of Harry’s own, the large orb seemed to beat like a heart, pumping mana instead of blood. It was really fucking weird. If Harry concentrated hard enough he could almost feel little bits of the elf peeking through, so why was the feeling Harry picking up on so… Actually, Harry didn’t want to know how the elf worked after all.
Looking past his newly secured elf bond with a small flush Harry saw something bizarre. A swirl of familiar magic churned in a different contained sphere. This one was somehow stagnant like it was a storage receptacle. Peaking his hand into the giant orb Harry felt love wash over his body, bitter with the taste of farewell. Images popped through Harry’s head, the same he saw when a Dementor came near.
Lilly Potter begged and pleaded but Voldemort cared little for the woes of a mother. As she was struck down with the horrifying green light Voldemort failed to notice as a ritualistic spell was activated with Lilly’s sacrifice. As the Dark Lord turned his wand on Harry the green light overtook Harry’s vision.
That was hers. This was the memory of Lilly Potter, what she had done to protect her son.
A protrusion had Harry startled. Along the back side of the large ball was a sickly growth, this felt wrong, the magic was oily and tar-like, and Harry knew instinctually not to touch the heinous bubble. But why was it attached to his mother’s magic, despite not being able to remember her more than what little he had gleamed, Harry knew that the sticky magic was not from Lilly Potter.
Pulled once more Harry wondered if this was all he would do in this strange dream of his. It all felt so real, it very well could have been. The tugging was annoying though.
The ‘dream’ was certainly feeling more bizarre. Looking at the next magical mass Harry was surprised to see a vision of himself, err, mostly.
The figure was a rough outline of Harry’s form but see-through like a ghost, with the gold coloration of Harry’s magic. Harry watched as slowly the figure grew shedding coats of gold flake that were rapidly replaced by fresh underlayers.
Harry didn’t have much choice but to analyze the new source of magic. Of course, nothing was ever going to go his way, Harry came to accept that. But for some odd reason, Harry thought he was at least semi-safe in his own dream. That of course was ruled out as Harry was sucked into the giant version of himself.
What the bloody hell…
As Harry sifted through the thicker substance that now surrounded him he felt as the magic crashed into his body, shoving him easily like the waves crashing into an untrained swimmer. He coincidentally didn’t know how to swim and so the analogy worked perfectly, Harry silently cursed his own distraction as he was battered.
Harry felt suffocated as slowly his vision went gold. His body was starting to feel itchy as all over he felt something happen. He was changing, and it kind of hurt. The pain was not even in the top ten worst experiences of his life but he desperately wished for it to stop regardless. A sudden piercing sensation hit his core, followed by another, and another, and another. He was being stabbed by magic.
What the bloody fuck! Harry was taking it all back, magic was not beautiful- ow! Okay, it was beautiful but magic was also mean!
Finally, the barrage faded as Harry remained suspended, skin highly irritated. Of course, Harry couldn’t see anything over the bloody light show! Speaking of which Harry needed to find a replacement pair of glasses fast, he wondered if the other pair could even survive another Repairo at this point. Probably not, and spell-o-tape had long since stopped sticking the slivers that were once glasses frames together.
Lost in thought Harry was once more reminded of his situation as his body glowed, the brightness continued to increase in intensity and was not showing any signs of dimming down.
A roaring in the distance had Harry contemplating if he was literally cursed with bad luck. Maybe it was a jinx?
As the light subdued Harry thanked the magic that only seemed to shove him forward, and if Harry was not mistaken, he could have sworn that it was laughing at him. The traitor. In the distance was a face Harry thought he would never have to look at again, swirling inside of yet another magical bubble sphere thingy was a fucking basilisk- no. Not a basilisk, this was THE basilisk. Harry didn’t know how he could tell but somehow he knew this was the serpent he had slain with the help of Fawkes.
Further down was an unfathomably large spide. An acromantula, Harry remembered the little escapade into the Forbidden Forest just as vividly as his encounter with the basilisk. Even now he shivered. He had managed to kill a couple of the demon spiders but he knew that had only painted a bigger picture on his back when he entered the Forbidden Forest. Harry wondered if he could arrange some sort of hunting party with the centaurs without Hagrid finding out about it.
Slowly gliding by Harry was momentarily stunned by the next beast, or should he say, creature?
It had been a while since Harry had seen a unicorn, his first year of course had been a devastating introduction to the species but last year he had met several more.
Looking at the giant bubble Harry was in horrified awe as he saw flashes of silvery blood illuminated by the moon. He had been there when the unicorn had died at the hands of Voldemort, he had been the last kindness the creature had seen in the world. Harry didn’t realize he was crying until the tears fell to his bare chest. I guess I have some more work to do. Harry wasn’t supposed to cry. The tears quickly stopped but Harry remained in a state of great grief.
Regaining composure was a sore affair but eventually, Harry was well enough to refocus only to be assaulted by the giant bubble bouncing against him before popping, the animal within disappearing. The magic seemed to absorb into Harry just like before, this time thankfully there was no pain to speak of. The sensation of the unicorn's magic washed over him, it was peculiar but somehow the magic felt right. An odd connection to the pure creature was starting to take shape, Harry had no idea what it meant.
So lost in thought Harry was unaware of the situation from behind.
Back to back, the bubbles containing the basilisk and the acromantula crashed into Harry, like before they were absorbed into his form until they were fully saturated within Harry’s magic. What was that about?!
Harry was thankful that there didn’t seem to be any other surprises in store for him. His mind seemed to agree as rather than having his vision overtaken by gold, the familiar blankness of sleep FINALLY washed away his strange mindscape.
Waking up was a sordid affair that Harry was quite frankly offended by. And why was it so bloody bright? This simply wouldn’t do.
Flopping back further under the covers Harry tried to snuggle in but unfortunately, the white duvet did little to shield him from the streams of light. His entire body felt sore like his flesh had been restretched over his bones, his skin didn’t sit just right, his digits didn’t click entirely into place, and his limbs had been ever so slightly shifted to the point of discomfort. A squishy feeling in his face reminded him that his nose was not okay! He had cleaned the blood the night before but somehow he had completely overlooked the fact that it was very noticeably crooked. Oh well, he had gone through much worse and been fine.
“Ugghh-” Harry was beginning to think that his dream was maybe not just a dream, but he didn’t like what that spelled out for his continued existence. I swear to god if I turn out to be some kind of seer I’m pushing Trelawney from her tea cozy covered tower!
“Well, well, well, look who has finally decided to join the land of the living Forge my boy?”
“I do say Gred, the dead has risen, we must run for our lives!”
Harry groaned at the twin-isms. It was too early for their shenanigans but he supposed if they were awake he should properly thank his hosts.
Finally slipping from his covers Harry felt mortified as he remembered he had slept without a shirt on and sometime during the middle of the night… his glamors had faded. The glamors that hid the massive amount of damage that had marked his body. Preparing for reprimand Harry was surprised to hear the sounds of choking.
Looking up Harry didn’t know what to make of the blank-faced twins. They had of course seen him shirtless plenty of times in the boy's locker rooms. It just so happens that Harry was quite good at charms and first year had figured out how to glamor his body to hide the majority of his shame. Harry’s light brown skin truly shone in the light, he could at least admit that. Despite however much Aunt Petunia tried to insist that he was just tan Harry was thankful that he had regained a small part of his skin's coloration since having come back to Hogwarts. Other than that, Harry had made it his mission to hide the lash markings on his back, the blistered skin along his shoulder from where he had been punctured by the basilisk fang, and the bruising he still had from his uncle’s ‘loving’ treatment he had received before leaving for the World Cup, despite it now being November.
“Harry,” for the first time that Harry had met him he felt afraid of George Weasley as his voice dripped with venom. Harry couldn’t help but flinch at his tone, he regretted the small motion immediately as he watched George’s face harden.
They know. They KNOW! They had seen the cat flap, the locks, the baren room, he had to convince them that it wasn’t as bad as it looked the last time. But now… How could they continue to accept him when they saw just how damaged he really was? He knew he wasn’t the freak or monster the Dursleys made him out to be. But they had succeeded at one thing, Harry was broken, and it was because of them.
Harry was startled out of his thoughts as Fred pulled a Dobby. Harry hadn’t even noticed the taller teen leaping onto the bed from where he had sat until he was met with a mop of red hair in his face as Fred set his head on Harry’s exposed chest. Harry panicked.
What the fuck do I do? He’s touching me! What does he know? How do I get out of this? How do I convince them to let me stay here?
“I am sorry, please don’t make me leave-” Harry hoped he could keep his room and maybe work out a schedule or-
Harry felt as if the wind was knocked from his body as Fred turned his face to him. Fred Weasley was a prankster extraordinaire with a flair for showmanship and dramatics. He despised bullying and mercilessly stuck up for what he thought was just and right. Fred Weasley was strong, righteous, motivated, and determined. Fred Weasley was also crying while staring at Harry with the saddest blue eyes he had ever seen while laid out over his bed and body. Harry suddenly felt very trapped, bracketed in the redhead's arms.
“What do you mean leave?! You are never leaving my sight AGAIN!” Fred may have been having a slight meltdown.
“Cut it out, Fred! You’re scaring him,” George seemed a bit more level-headed but not by much. Walking around the bed George sat on the edge of the mattress setting a hand on Fred’s back.
“Harry. You aren’t leaving here. We both insist,” Fred wildly shook his head in agreement with George’s words. “Additionally, we require an explanation-”
“No-”
“Yes. It doesn’t have to be now, and it can be brief, but you will not be getting out of this one brother,” George seemed hard as stone in his conviction, and frankly, Harry didn’t know how he could swindle this one without a memory charm which he would never use. “And. I don’t think it's too hard for you to imagine that we will be keeping a closer eye on you now that we know that something has happened and has been happening for far too long.”
There it was again. That sound. Looking down Harry realized the source of the choking noise from before was actually Fred trying to control his breathing. Harry would have loved the redhead spread out over his body. If he deserved it. And. In any other fucking situation!
“I-I-I,” Harry was malfunctioning. “I need to be alone,” Harry hated it but he couldn’t be dealing with this right now. This weekend seemed to be one bad thing after another so far.
“Very well brother. Come on Fred,” George stated having expected this sort of outcome.
Fred looked like a puppy that had just been kicked. Harry hated it. Getting up slowly Fred followed his twin, taking several glances at Harry as he crept through the door.
I’m ruined. Harry didn’t know what to do if the school found out he had been abused. Malfoy would certainly have a field day with the information, as would several of his Slytherin lackeys. Ginny would use the info in some twisted way to continue writing their (imaginary) love story. Ron would call him an attention seeker as would Professor Snape (Harry found it funny to compare the two but at the moment the humor was lost on him). And what would ultimately happen? Dumbledore had flat outright told him he wouldn’t remove Harry from his ‘family’ and McGonagall had said her hands were tied. When he had tried bringing it up with the god-awful Minister for Magic last year Fudge had all but insisted that he was blowing things out of proportion, pun intended. The non-magical world wasn’t any better, no amount of school nurse visits or complaints to educators could convince anybody that the Dursleys were anything but outstanding citizens.
Harry would continue to rot for the next year's summer there until he turned 17 and was legally allowed to leave. He had been frugal with his vault on spending the necessary amount to get him through his education outside of a couple of sweets. He would rid himself of his family and be able to afford a place to live in the summers until he finally graduated from Hogwarts. That was assuming he could pass his OWLs at the end of this year. While regular exams were dismissed for him due to the tournament he still had to do the ministry testing to prove him capable of using magic in the world.
So now all he had left was to wait things out, hope that he could survive his Aunt, Uncle, and cousin, and somehow convince the Weasley twins to not spill his secrets and just let things be.
A crack in the air had Harry startled out of his thoughts. The crash that followed had Harry cursing his fucking terrible luck.
“Whose did this?” Dobby all but demanded as he hopped on the bed and stalked towards Harry, tears of fury filling his eyes. As the elf gasped a second time Harry wondered what other surprises he could possibly be having. “How?” Dobby now seemed confused more than anything else.
Looking at the elf Harry knew that one could say that they were kindred spirits, both abused by their keepers. Despite this correlation, Harry couldn’t bring himself to make that connection, Dobby was clearly a better soul than him.
Dobby seemed to remember his initial pain as his eyes flashed upwards to Harry’s still-exposed chest. Was it really that bad? Harry knew it wasn’t great, but was it that bad?
“Explains!” With the snap of his fingers, Harry was surrounded by a small mountain of pillows with a full in-bed breakfast service. Thank magic for orange juice…
Looking at Dobby Harry felt like he should be able to speak to the elf that shared so many common experiences with himself, but he was at a loss for words. How did you just tell someone that you didn’t know your own name until you were five, or that you slept in a cupboard until you were twelve, or that the first time you were given a hug by an adult was when you were thirteen? How could you explain that you can’t remember your caretakers not hurting you or that you had to learn from a young age to hide your pain or face even greater wrath? Now he was 16, near the legal majority, and yet he still couldn’t face his own pain.
“Harry sir,” Dobby’s voice sounded so broken. But it wasn’t the elf's emotions that broke Harry from his spiraling.
“You used my name as I asked,” Harry was honestly shocked the elf had managed to start mending his habits in such a short period of time. It wasn't perfect but it was a lot better than the word vomit of a title Dobby had previously used to address him. Dobby was not taking this as an answer though. Making a truly awful decision, Harry knew that Dobby deserved some form of the truth.
“Dobby, can I tell you a story?” Harry hated this, he didn’t like this one bit, but the blasted elf looked so expectant, any resolve Harry had was crumbling rapidly. “Grab the twins.”
Sitting there on his bed Harry felt an absolute fool as he stared at his small audience who sat obediently at the foot of the bed like puppies. Fuck me.
There was no way he was going to be able to look at their reactions. Taking in a breath that felt like it could be his last Harry stared at a bowl of fruit and started his twisted rendition of life.
“Once there was a little boy born to two magical parents that loved him. The magical family had love and support from friends and those that they thought of as kin. But a dark wizard sought the young boy out to kill him. The family set up protections but were betrayed. The dark wizard was given the family's location and was able to break into the family's cottage. The father fought to protect his wife and child but perished in the fight. The mother wanted desperately for her child to live, and so rather than fleeing, she begged for mercy. She of course was not granted it and the dark wizard killed her and aimed his wand at the child. Little did the dark wizard know that she had used her sacrifice in a ritual that would prevent the dark wizard from killing her son. And so as the killing spell was cast the dark wizard met the taste of his own magic as it rebounded and destroyed the dark wizard's body reducing him to a shade.”
Harry hated this so much, but taking a glance at his small audience he knew he had to continue. All three spectators remained stoic and attentive. Harry wished desperately that he could read minds or emotions, something, anything!
“The boy would from that moment onward be called the ‘Boy-Who-Lived’ but his story didn’t end there. That same night his godfather came to check on the house only to find the scene of the crime. The godfather rescued the crying boy from the rubble after seeing the corpses of his dear friends. This godfather knew who the traitor was and was furious but felt the need to care for the boy as was his duty. Before the godfather could leave a man approached the godfather demanding the child. The light lord had sent this person to take the child. The godfather tried to argue but the larger man wrestled the babe from the godfather's hands trying to follow his orders. The godfather was left devastated and spiraled into near madness.”
Harry once more risked a glance at the surrounding faces. He saw the looks of confusion of the twins, no one in the wizarding world ever knew the aftermath of the attack in Godric’s Hollow. But outside of a raised brow, the trio were nothing but supportive as they waited for Harry to continue.
“The large man took the babe and in the early morning hours dropped him off at the doorstep of his last biological relative's house. The boy’s mother had an estranged sister born without magic who had married a non-magical businessman and together the couple had a non-magical son. This aunt had distanced from her sister due to her own hatred of magic and her puritanical beliefs.”
Harry watched as looks of comprehension dawned on the twins' faces, they tried desperately to mask it but it was there. Dobby for his part remained dutifully engaged in the story.
“The ignorance,” Fred muttered quietly in his head as he clenched a pillow like a stress ball.
Unbeknownst to most of the wizarding populace Fred and George did indeed share a bond closer than most magical siblings, even unusual in comparison to other magical twins. From a young age, George and Fred had figured out that they could hear their counterpart’s thoughts. Originally the ability had been much stronger but it had faded over the years reducing their broadcast range and their ability to interpret the other's emotions. When a younger Harry had started asking questions in first year it had taken most of the twin's combined willpower to not accidentally blow their cleverly crafted cover. But come on, it was so tantalizing to wield the secret over others' heads just outside of their reach.
“We will make them pay brother,” George fed back to his brother. He wondered how far he could push his limits with his punishment of the filthy muggle beasts.
“The boy was sat out until the family found him the next morning. He sat there in the chill of the November morning with nothing more than a small blanket, and a letter attached to him from the light lord. That same morning the godfather tracked down the traitor of the boy’s family. He succeeded in finding him but the traitor was ready. After cutting off his finger the traitor cast a confundus spell on the godfather and blew up the non-magical street killing several non-magicals. The traitor transformed into a rat to hide from the authorities and fake his own death successfully leaving only his fingers behind as evidence.”
The twins had never been told of Sirius Black’s innocence, but they were smart. They had heard how Black initially was captured, but that just made it all the worse as they listened to Harry’s tail.
“The godfather was taken into custody by the ministry and with all the at the time compelling evidence he was tossed into the wizarding prison… without trial-”
“No-”
“How can it be-”
“You can’t be serious-”
“Quiet!” Harry was not finished. The twins settled as they stared on obediently, blank masks back in place. Harry hoped he didn’t remind them of Molly Weasley. He had to keep going though, he had come this far and this needed to be seen to the end.
“Without any notice of what had happened, the boy was left to his cruel relatives to care for him. His given name didn’t matter as to his new keepers he was ‘Freak’ and ‘Boy’. His new room became the cupboard under the stairs and that is where he would remain until he started his magical schooling-”
A choking sound this time came from George, but he definitely wasn’t crying… The redhead seemed to be close to frothing at the mouth. As Harry gazed up the murderous twin relaxed once more. Harry was never going to finish if he thought that they weren’t listening or if he got scared of their reactions.
“Freak was taught from a young age that he was not wanted, he was never going to be loved, he was a nuisance, a burden, and most importantly, he was worthless.”
Fred was trying to decide if he needed a calming draught.
“The first time Freak was truly beat was when he was four. Freak was cooking breakfast in the kitchen when his cousin bumped into him causing him to yank the frying pan to the ground that had held the bacon. Freak’s uncle was furious and decided that Freak needed to learn a lesson. That was the first time he tasted his uncle's fists. Before the uncle had stuck to the belt-”
“FUCK!” Fred yelled in his mind as he slammed his fist into the mattress. George noticed Harry’s flinch and promptly hit his brother on the back of the head subtly with a light stinging hex. A useful bit of wandless magic, he would say, as Fred immediately schooled his features.
“Do not. Do that again,” George’s words were very clear in his head, channeled back to his twin through their mental link, his eyes darting to Harry seemed to actually get the message across to his ardent brother.
“I’m sorry Harry. I’m not mad at you, please continue,” Fred needed to know.
Looking at his companions Harry hoped they could get Dobby out of his daze eventually but as it was now the elf’s eyes looked like portals to hell.
“Freak was only told his real name when he was expected to go to school. In school, he couldn’t escape his problems as his family poisoned the communities minds with stories of their troublesome nephew and his compulsive need to spin tall tales. Freak tried his best in school and did well, so well in fact that he outshined his cousin. Freak’s aunt noticed this and punished Freak with a rolling pin to the head and no food for a week. One of her favorite punishments, Freak didn’t deserve food, and what he did get was scraps. He was only worthy of cooking for his whale of a cousin and uncle.”
Dobby seemed to be counting threads in the fabric as he stared down at the bed lost in thought. Harry agreed with the practice and started the procedure himself.
“And so, Freak grew distant from his schooling but thought that just maybe he could still manage to make a friend. His very first friend was a quiet girl who had a fascination with bugs. When Freak’s cousin found out about his friend he and his gang of bullies beat her and smashed her beloved insects and worms and made an example of her to the rest of the student body. No one was to speak with Freak, especially not as a friend.”
Harry knew he had a loose grasp on reality but he had to keep going, he realized that he needed this, he needed someone to know.
“Throughout the years Freak endured. He overcooked the eggs? Ten lashings. He didn’t prune the hedges back enough? No food for a week. The worst was when he did something freakish. The boy had magic that his relatives desperately tried to beat out of him. When he ran from his cousin’s group of bullies and somehow ended up on the roof of the school he was locked in his cupboard for several days and they called the school saying Freak was sick. No food, no water, no bathroom, no care.”
“I’m gonna be sick,” Fred’s words filled George’s mind, the twins were abuzz with equal parts diabolical plotting and sorrow.
“Finally the summer Freak was to turn 12, someone sent him mail for the first time. Freak’s relatives knew what the letter would say and hid it from him, more letters were sent and they fled trying to keep Freak from the letter's contents. Finally, the large man who had dropped Freak off all those years ago tracked Freak down and hand-delivered the letter saying that Freak was magical, he was to attend a school for magical people just like him. The large man gave very little explanation but it didn’t matter, Freak could actually escape”
Fred and George gave calculating looks to each other, the large man was most definitely Hagrid.
“Freak was beaten miserably that day but it was worth it. He had magic, and there were others like him out there, he thought just maybe he could fit into this new world.”
Dobby finally looked up but it wasn’t clear if he was actually living in the present or caught up in his own mind. Fred and George looked relieved as if the story got any better from there.
“In this new world, Freak was allowed to be Harry and Harry hoped and hoped that things would be better. But they weren’t.”
All the air seemed to be punched from Fred’s lungs. “We must fix this brother,” Fred needed George to understand.
“We will Fred,” George communicated back without Harry knowing of their hidden correspondence.
“Each year something new came ready to kill Harry and every summer Harry returned just to be abused once more. And THAT. That is the circular life of Harry James Potter.”
Harry stood slowly ignoring the heaps of food that still sat on the bed. “Dobby if you no longer wish to be bonded to me I will understand-”
Harry’s sentence was cut off by the elf flying into his stomach. That. Hurt.
“Oww, let a man breathe,” Harry didn’t realize the elf could pack that much of a hit in his tiny body.
“You are mines now Harry Potter sir, and nothing will be changings Dobby’s mind, no sirs.”
Well then… “Uhm… Thank you Dobby-”
Harry felt his back stiffen as two sets of arms wrapped around him. Blasted affectionate twins.
“Murder is wrong, murder is wrong, murder is wrong,” Fred repeated this mantra in his head while George wondered how they might actually get away with it.
“Ignore him,” George said aloud as he let out a sigh that Harry couldn’t help but reciprocate.
“Well littlest of brothers thank you for sharing part of your story with us, now we all have something to tell you.”
Harry didn’t want to look the brothers in their eyes but George forced the matter as he pushed Harry’s chin up. Why were they so bloody tall! The twins were easily a head and a half taller- Wait. That can’t be right… Somehow the twins looked closer?
“Pay attention,” George gently reprimanded. “You are no longer alone Harry James Potter.”
Harry was, confused? Stunned? And also maybe hungry.
“You will have our help with this competition and in life. You no longer get to get away with this self-sacrificing nonsense!” George was… intense. But he knew that he had to tread carefully; Harry wouldn’t respond well to anything too aggressive, he might think it was directed at him. “Perhaps we can take a break for now hmm? It appears Dobby has made a wonderful feast for us, let’s not let it go to waste.”
“Don’t worry Harry sir, now that you are an adult yous don'ts have to gos to those nasty muggles,” Dobby sounded maniacal, and very unhinged as he sprung onto the bed to reheat the food. Wait a second.
“What do you mean I’m an ‘adult’? And it's just Harry, I’m not a master, I’m your friend.”
Dobby looked at Harry with tears in his eyes, but he shook his head wildly in agreement. Once again Harry questioned the strength of his vertebrate. “I means what I saids Mast- Harry.”
Harry smiled at the elf encouragingly hoping that this would be an easy learning curve.
“Yous are now an adult wizard by magics,” Dobby shook his head as he tended to the rest of the food. Harry thought the elf was barmy but as he looked at the twins he felt a little confused by the comprehension on their faces.
“Harry… He means that you have come into your full adult magics-”
“You had your inheritance last night!” Twin speak was really hard to follow but luckily they were still doing longer sentences. When they got really into it sometimes you had to listen for every other word coming from their mouths.
“So. What does that mean?” Harry really hoped someone was capable of providing an actual explanation.
Fred’s eyes seemed to twitch. “No one has talked to you about magical inheritances or adultship in the wizarding world?”
“Of course, they haven’t brother,” George said with a barely hidden shattered look in his own eyes.
Harry just shook his head figuring he could be polite and answer the question.
“Keep calm,” George was doing mental laps as he tried to maintain his outward devilishly handsome and jolly appearance.
“I have found yet another reason to hate the staff of this school brother.”
“I concur.”
“Well Harry(kins)-” The twins said simultaneously, though for whatever reason Fred continued to call him Harry while George called him Harrikins.
“When a magical person becomes an adult their magical core expands greatly signifying their adult status, they also unlock unrestrained access to any family magics they might have, any natural magical talents that are unlocked with age, and other gifts. In some cases, the huge burst of magic is enough to unlock genetics in a person such as Veela or Leprechaun in what some refer to as a creature inheritance.”
Harry remembered the mascots at the World Cup and knew that he hadn’t ended up looking like either of the magical races. He was also curious how said ‘creatures’ felt about being relegated to beasts by wizarding definitions and wordage.
“When someone has their adult magics they are also from then on out considered a legal adult, and capable of obtaining any titles as long as their family laws accept them.”
Harry was hearing a lot of words, but he had no clue what they meant.
“Something tells me-”
“That no one-”
“Has explained-”
“Any of this-”
“To you.”
Right on the money, Harry needed to start researching wizarding society pronto. Harry shuttered at the thought of Hermione finding that out.
“You are the last of the Potters. Your family holds a title, therefore, that title is yours as long as your family laws let you claim it.”
Harry was short-circuiting.
“That’s not alls Harry’s demon twins,” Dobby said as he directed a plate of food Harry’s way forcing him to sit. “I detects death magics on Harry, and beasties magic. Great Harry is a Necrotic Druid.”
Harry felt lightheaded.
“What’s that Dobby?” Harry felt like he was about to pass out.
“Yous being able to use death magics and claim creatures powers.”
Suddenly Harry understood the crazy spider, snake, horse-popping bubble fiasco. “Oh no, no, no, no!”
“Bloody hell Harry. Dobby I’ve never heard of a Necro-ma-call-it before,” Fred looked at Harry with much underserved awe. Harry definitely needed to get control of his damn libido, all he had was a blanket and pajama bottoms to hide the effect of Fred’s attention. Harry was a horny 16-year-old boy despite his magic proclaiming him practically geriatric.
Hold on. Harry was an adult?
“Judging by that smile Gred my boy-”
“I can concur Forge-”
“Figured it out yet?”
“I’m an adult,” Harry was a fucking adult! He didn’t have to go to the Dursleys at all and when he passed his OWLs he could practice all the magic he wanted. He could finally have his life in his hands (discounting any potential vengeful dark lords after his hide).
“Right-o.”
“Here, here!”
“Eat your foods,” Dobby snapped clearly unhappy with the excitable teens.
Digging in with a smile Harry felt like he could orgasm eating these pancakes alone. The only thing that could make them better is if he were eating them off of a certain twin's body, Harry kept that private thought to himself and hoped that the plate hid any noticeable bump.
“Wait where are you going Dobby?” Harry asked as he noticed the elf about to crack away.
“Dobby’s be leavings so Harry sir can eat with his demons,” Dobby stated as if it was obvious. Which it might have been to someone who had grown up in the wizarding world. But Harry definitely wasn’t a traditionalist.
“Won’t you please join us? You made all of this wonderful food and I would love it if you sat down and kept us company?” Harry didn’t want to force the elf, but he thought it was only right. Harry had never been allowed to eat at the dining table after he had slaved away cooking, something he wouldn’t be getting over any time soon.
Harry needed to get used to the crying. After calming Dobby down and getting him situated in between Harry and Fred much to the redhead's consternation Harry was finally able to relax into an easy conversation. Fred and George took great joy recounting one of their pranks. Somehow Harry felt found? Sitting surrounded by companions he had trusted with some of his darkest secrets Harry appreciated the companionship, he didn’t really get to be like this with Ron and Hermione. They hadn’t rejected him, the twins and Dobby, in fact, they had embraced him further. Perhaps he could come out of this all on top…
Harry knew his psyche was far from put together. He quite possibly was in the middle of a trauma response at this very moment. Most people, Harry guessed, would cry when having to confront the harsh realities of their lives. Or at the very least show anything but apathy, but as it stood Harry felt glee in his own removal of self from the Dursley’s embrace, they hadn’t beat him. He had won.
“So…” Harry wondered if this day was actually real with how many developments had so far updated into Harry’s system. “Obviously I don’t want to ever have to go back to my darling family,” he hoped he had adequately gotten that point across, if not he needed to find some new companions.
“Obviously,” George and Fred parroted nodding their head vigorously. Fred batting his eyelashes made Harry want to puke (and commit the image to memory).
“Right. How do I make sure that legally no one can force me to go back? Someone might argue that I’m still technically underage-”
“I’d like to see them fucking try to send you back,” Fred was more than willing to fight someone on the matter, he was itching for some sort of target.
“Not helping brother dear,” George said a contemplative look on his face.
“Bill?” Both brothers said at the same time only to blink at each other surprised by their own similar train of thought.
“Bill?” Harry wondered how the eldest of the Weasley siblings could be any help, then again Harry had only really met him for two weeks and already knew the wizard was highly capable. The memory of the muscular redhead had Harry hoping no one could see his blush. Maybe Harry needed to sort through his own attractions to redheads and what it said that he was indiscriminately oogling multiple brothers.
“Silly red demons,” Dobby let out a small chuckle that reminded Harry of the sounds an imp made, “Harry bes needing to go to the goblins. Old Mean Masters always said moneys bes power.”
Fred and George once more looked at each other having a silent conversation this time as the thoughts in their head rushed by a kilometer a minute.
“Bill.” The twins spoke together.
“We are gonna go send a letter Harry-”
“In the meantime-”
“Research your new magic-”
“Look at what laws-”
“Are applicable to your case-”
“Try finding anything you can on goblins-”
“Especially customs and business transactions-”
“Practice for the tournament-”
“Figure out what the heck a Necrotic Druid is-”
“And get out of bed-”
“It’s already 4’o’clock in the afternoon-”
“Make yourself at home-”
“Paint the walls-”
“Get some furniture-”
“And glasses-”
“Bye for now!” And with that, the Weasley twins were gone.
“I’ve got Bill. Emergency priority,” Fred was practically skipping at the thought of the retribution he would call for against the filthy vermin that were Harry’s blood relatives.
“And I’ve got Ron,” George needed to blow off some steam, and what better way to do that than taking care of the arrant pig they occasionally considered their brother.
Harry was glad to see that he wasn’t the only one struggling to follow the twin's dealings as he glanced at Dobby whose pupils were swirling. That was… interesting.
Well then. I guess I have some things to work on. Harry couldn’t wait.
Notes:
Another chapter is finished! I am hoping to continue on with this little story of mine. This is my second ever fanfic and I'm learning as I go. I have a rough outline of where this story will lead, and I am also trying not to run the path that many other wonderfully written fanfics have taken.
Comments are welcome! What do you think?
Chapter 3: Elven Home Renovation - The Tutorial
Summary:
Harry goes through his first week as a Triwizard Champion.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Gits. Every single one of them. Harry was done with this disaster already.
Staring at the three elves bickering in front of him Harry felt as the king of all migraines reigned supreme inside of his cranium. Dobby abandoned him leaving him with the joyous task of instructing the currently flustering and argumentative elves.
“It is not be dones-”
“Buts others bes doings it-”
“Dobby’s saying-”
“Bah! Dobbys bes strange-”
It had been like this since Dobby had popped out of the room after he insisted on taking care of the breakfast mess. He had then conversed with Dobby about how the diligent but overemotional caretaker was taking on too much responsibility; Harry didn’t need the elf to be his maid! This of course had the disastrous effect of a full-blown elf meltdown that culminated in Harry talking Dobby out of jumping from the tower’s window and then cleaning Dobby’s snotty face. They had come to a tentative agreement about what Harry needed versus what Dobby wanted to do which included a clause stipulating that Dobby couldn’t take on more than he could chew. This led to the clearly insane elf recruiting his closest allies in the castle.
Harry had been introduced to Tipper, Spollock, and Bobbie. Winky was a sore spot to see once more, Barty Crouch’s former elf who was currently crying in the corner of the room. Fan-bloody-tastic.
Dobby had left thirty minutes ago to get books to instruct Harry, apparently, it wasn’t common for house elves to know how to read, much less be literate. Dobby had been begrudgingly taught the basics by his former masters' head elf due to some of his past duties. Dobby had developed a love for reading children’s books which is how he had first been introduced to ‘Harry Potter - The Boy Who Lived: The Series’. Harry wanted the record to show that he in no way endorsed the borderline slanderous content and was really hoping he could figure out a way to discredit the publication if not outright sue them… He also needed to research if lawsuits were a thing in the wizarding world. AFter a quick description of some of the book's plot lines Harry was near apoplectic with an undignified rage, Harry thought the feeling similar to how Malfoy acted all the time.
Dobby had learned of Druids from some of the books he used to read to his former master, which Harry knew meant that Dobby had no doubt been one of the nanny elves to the poncy blonde prat. Harry just hoped that whatever magical change had befallen him would see him better able to tackle this thrice-blasted tournament. Necrotic Druid at least sounded interesting, but it was also one more thing that made him stick out. Rats.
Dobby had left instructions with the other four elves to help him set up and decorate his room but the current argument had bloomed not too long after Dobby had left. Apparently, the elves were unsure if they were allowed to help a student who was technically breaking school rules by not living in the dormitory. Tipper was firmly against the entire situation, Spollock thought that it was harmless, Bobbie was just excited to decorate, and Winky… might be an alcoholic. A burping from the corner had Harry turning in fear, she was drinking fire whiskey like a champ. Harry had enough experience with the substance from Seamus to know that the afterbreath was enough to spark a fire. Harry remembered when Seamus had passed around abottle one night and Dean had been sick, spew out flaming chunks in the corner of the room that caught the curtains on fire. Needless to say Harry was not a fan of the drink, alcohol only served as a negative influence in Harry's childhood. Vernon had always been a mean drunk.
“Okay! Listen up,” Harry hoped the elves didn’t turn the argument onto him, so far he had avoided their wrath.
Three sets of eyes blinked at him in an unnerving manner. Tipper was really short even compared to his fellow elves, standing under two feet tall with dull grey eyes. Spollock was in comparison a giant at close to four feet in stature, slightly taller then Professor Flitwick, with a patchwork dress made of towels. Finally, there was Bobbie who was a sight to behold. She was average in height and over all build but what drew her apart was her red eyes and pale white skin. Of course if it wasn't for her complexion you could easily single the elf out by her outfit which consisted of what could only be described as a skimpy french maid costume covered in embroidery of the Hogwarts Crest and House Emblems.
“Uhm right. Can one of you please bring me the… Hogwarts Rule Book?” Harry wondered if such a compendium existed
Tipper was the first to recover and popped away only to reappear a moment later with a massive book in hand. The tome was large enough that Harry was sure if Tipper were to drop it on himself it would break several of the elf’s bones.
“Right well, let’s see exactly what the rules have to say about where a student can sleep-”
As Harry spoke the book popped open, pages flew by until it landed somewhere in the middle of the aged text. What Harry saw was not the most helpful. The book held a record of every rule change and update that had actually gone through the proper channels with references as far back as the inception of the school and the original charter.
Looking at the scrawled text Harry’s eyes bulged as he realized that this very well could have been written by the founders, it was all in various hand writings as if one author had tag-teamed the next author.
Scanning through as quickly as he could Harry stumbled across the most helpful bit of information he could have possibly received.
“Ah-hah! It says right here,
" An of age apprentice may seek shelter outside of thy houses loungings if space allow it. Apprenctices must inquire with a Master in direct command of lodgings for bequeathement of room. Applicable reasoning include mateship, lord or ladyship, creeture blood, quarrel amongsts house, or as deemed fit based on case…”
Harry excitedly looked up from the book and was met with… nothing. The elves didn’t seem to care at all.
“Yous stills be needings permissions,” Tipper said with a huff. Harry was beginning to wonder why Dobby hung out with the cranky elf, then again, Dobby was maybe not the best judge of character.
Desperately trying to think of anyone who would possibly give him permission Harry was drawing a blank. McGonagall and Dumbledore would immediately send him back to his dorm, Snape would do the same but with a scowl and a detention for troubling him. Sprout might have been an option if not for the bloody tournament that seemed to have riled up the Head of Hufflepuff enough to have the jovial witch glare daggers at him. And Flitwick was notoriously neutral on issues outside of Ravenclaw… So who else could be considered a master of housing? Looking down at the elves Harry had a diabolical idea, definitely worthy of earning him his keep, staying in the tower of the Weasley twins.
“Who is the Head Elf in charge of the dormitories?”
The elves looked amongst each other, curious but worried.
“Yous be talking of Missus Daffodil sirs,” Spollock offered the information up after her comrades stood silent.
“Excellent. Uhm, could I please see Mrs. Daffodil? I wish to speak to-”
A small crack had another elf appearing. Harry mentally cringed at the fierce glare directed his way. Snape would be proud. The elf was sitting on a small puff chair that had come with her. She was covered in various bits of knitwear that gave her the appearance of a doilly graveyard. She was old, more wrinkled then anything else, but her eyes spoke of great wisdom. This elf was not afraid to put a bossy kid in their place. Harry hoped none of them heard his gulp.
“Well? You called for me?” The elf spoke with a precision and crispness he had never before gleaned from the lips of a House Elf. Admittedly, his experience with the magical species was limited to five total elves, but the point still stood.
“Uhm yes well-”
“Use your words. ‘Uhm’ is unnacceptable. Again,” Mrs. Daffodil was definitely not afraid to put a student in their place. Her words were concise just as much as her tone was poignant and to the point. Harry might be screwed.
“Forgive me! My mistake. I…” What did Harry want to say? “My previous dormitory inside of Gryffindor is no longer suited to my needs,” Harry hoped that elves couldn’t smell fear. Was that a speciest thing to think?
“Elaborate,” it was a command, not a request. Daffodil was what McGonagall was trying to be Harry realized, horrified by the thought.
“Right well. You see my dormmates have turned their backs on me, one of them even attacked me,” at this Harry pointed to his nose only to be stopped as the elderly elf held up her hand.
“Come closer,” Daffodil beckoned Harry forward until he was hunched over. He hoped he wasn’t about to get smacked by the clearly seasoned warrior. She must have seen many battles in her long life, even if they were only fights between kids, it still counted.
Harry was snapped harshly out of his revelry by a crunch. “OWW!”
Well, I guess I don’t have to worry about my nose anymore.
“All better. Children fight, and he should be punished. You have asked me here for something. You speak of insufficient living arrangements. I can therefore deduce that you want to room elsewhere. My question is, why should you be allowed when so many others are declined? There is at least one student a month that asks for their own room.”
Harry felt like he had just been dressed down, and she said it all without raising her voice. Harry wanted to be her when he grew up.
“I…” Bollocks, how the hell do I want to spin this? “Hogwarts has been my first home since I was a babe. My muggle relatives were not kind and so I relish in the comfort I have grown here in the castle. But now my dorm has been turned into a place of hatred. My best friend, the first friend my own age at least, not only insulted me but attacked me… and not for the first time.” Harry hated admitting it but it was the truth. Ron had always been a bit rough around the edges, he had been quick to anger with a fuse shorter than his… Harry didn't want to entirely go there. He had eyes and the shower stalls were close together. Yeah. But Harry had thought that friends could patch things up no matter what. The only problem with that ideology? Harry was fucking done with him, Ron was going to keep being immature and Harry had barely stuck with him last year when Hermione and Ron were on the frits.
“I’m sure there is more,” Daffodil snapped her fingers. In her palm a tiny teacup appeared that she sipped at, the act felt down right menacing.
“Right, of course. My roommates have made the environment hostile but it's not just them. My entire house is so fickle in their constitution that some days they prop me up as a hero and at the drop of a hat I am a social pariah. It pains me to say it but I don’t find myself fitting easily into the lion's hierarchy. In my first year I was constantly gaped at, especially my scar, as the novelty wore off I had to deal with rumors, teasing, jests, and down right bullying. Second year I was persona non grata after the school found out I’m a parsel mouth. Third year don’t even get me started on how they decided to 'handle it' after I sided with the centaurs. And now I’m in the Triwizard tournament and I have people in my own house glaring daggers at me for being forced into a tournament I was quite vocal in my hatred of!” Harry… needed to get that out… What kind of day was he having? Did someone slip him a truth potion? What was it called? Veritas serum?
“There is more,” Daffodil swished her hand and a chair appeared behind Harry. The other elves seemed to pick up on some sort of subtle cue as they circled around their superior.
“Isn’t there always?” Harry brushed his hands up to readjust his glasses only to remember they were gone. Is my vision really that bad on its own? Those glasses did practically fucking nothing. “I don’t think I deserve special privileges. But I don’t feel safe sleeping in Gryffindor anymore. And now that I had that crazy inheritance or what-”
“You have inherited?” Now Daffodil looked interested as she leaned forward. With the snap of her fingers, Harry felt his chair scoot forward until he was practically pressed against the elderly elf. “Let me taste your magic.”
Harry did not need this happening two days in a row, “I can assure you that Dobby is quite fine-”
“Not like that child. You won’t be binding me today. I want to taste your magic to see what I find. For all a wizard has there words, magic does not lie.”
Oh. Harry guessed that made sense. Magic was all about intent though right? But... What if someone was working off of assumptions of the truth that were not quite accurate? I wonder if misconceptions and false ideology play a role…
Looking at the waiting face in front of him Harry blushed as he remembered the initial query. Closing his eyes once more he repeated what Dobby had said yesterday letting his magic stretch out. This time it was much easier and soon enough he felt five distinct magical entities surrounding him and a prodding at his magic. Harry felt slightly violated, like he was nude in the great hall being gawked at by McGonagall and Hagrid.
“You may have your own room to accommodate your intendeds, these quarters will suffice I take it?” Daffodil asked leaning back away from Harry who snapped from his magical mindscape. It was different than the day before, more similar to what he had seen in the dream.
“Thank you-” What did she mean intendeds?
“You will of course be checked on by other elves besides Dobby. He is still a youngling-” Daffodil was cut off by a shrieking that Harry recognized from his jaunty into the woods after the Quidditch World Cup.
“Please Master Harry Potters sirs! Winky’s bes doing anything to bind to such powerful master!” Winky was not just drunk, she was completely sloshed. The intoxicated elf now knelt on the ground at Harry’s feet hiccuping.
“Do not. Interrupt me,” with a name like Daffodil most would think the elf would be nice and sunny in demeanor. But if looks could kill then Winky would be double dead from Daffodil’s glare. “Now. As I was saying, you will be checked on. I will follow the procedure for housing reassignment, but I can imagine you want to keep this knowledge to as few as possible. The twins have similar requests given the precarious nature of their labs downstairs. A word of advice child? Control. Your magic is strong, but it is in shambles. Learn to wield it so that it does not wield you,” the gaze directed at Harry felt like it saw right to his soul. Harry hoped his soul wasn’t a bastard betraying his secrets to the ancient elf. “Now. If you take Winky I expect you to treat her well. And if you can fix her… less desirable habits,” at this Daffodil scowled at the simpering elf on the ground, “then I can assure you proper reward from all of us at Hogwarts. You three, help him. Good day to you child.”
And with that the grumpy elf named Daffodil, was gone, taking with her the Hogwarts Rule Book and the chair Harry had just been sitting on. Falling hard on his ass hurt, but what was even worse was how Winky tried crawling onto his lap.
“Winky, I know you wish for a master. But Dobby made it clear that he doesn’t want me taking on any other-”
A small crack filled the room as Dobby appeared with a tall stack of books behind him.
“Harry Potter can be bindings to Winky. It bes good for hers,” Dobby said as he bounced through the room looking at the space.
Fucking. Traitor. Harry was going to have another serious conversation with his newly bound elf.
After being pressed for the next ten minutes Harry finally acquiesced and bound to Winky much to her pleasure and his dismay. Dobby also looked pleased and Harry didn’t want to even think what that could mean for him. The other three elves, for their part in the ordeal, looked far too innocent for Harry’s liking.
“Okay,” Harry didn’t really know where to begin when planning what would essentially be his own space. But he could figure it out. “First thing, I’m keeping the monster bed over there,” Harry LOVED getting to stretch out like a sea star. “Perhaps we can get a new bed frame for it-”
“On it,” Tipper said before popping out of the room.
“Okay. Well, that's something. Now then I’m going to need a dresser, nightstand, table, desk, and some seating. Maybe even a large area rug?” The stone floor was cold on his feet and it didn’t hurt to ask. The rush of adrenaline he felt over getting to plan his room layout probably spoke volumes about his mental health.
Setting the elves to task Harry quickly learned that the only one with any sense of design he could bounce ideas with was Bobbie. Winky occasionally had useful little intelligible strings of words but for the most part, she was drunk on booze and high on a magic rush.
The evening gave way to the late hours of the night. Finally, Harry was happy with the setup of his room. He had ended up doing the entire area in purple and earth tones because he couldn’t see the point in house pride at this time. ALL the furniture was wooden with rich stains, Petunia had favored painting everything white and Harry despised it. He was able to procure all of the items he listed, a bookshelf, and a couch. The elves had ended up escorting him to a place called the Come-and-Go-Room otherwise known as the Room of Requirement. It had been filled with junk accumulated over hundreds of years but it had its uses. Apparently, the room's contents shifted depending on the user's needs and so Harry had of course spent thirty minutes walking outside of the door trying to come up with different rooms, each time the magical space delivered. Once he had found all of his furniture pieces the elves had transported it back and got to work. Harry had picked a wall color using a color-changing charm that Spollock then painted with a magical pigment, adding her own flare by including creeping sprigs of different plants with animals peaking through the mural at random intervals. Harry had to reign the elf in and eventually they settled on using similar tones to what was already in the design rather then going for realism and magical movement.
Finally sitting on his newly acquired couch Harry couldn’t help but feel pleased with himself. He had done all this with the help of his crew! “Thank you all for helping me,” Harry truly couldn’t be any more grateful.
As the hired help left Harry was left with an unconscious Winky that had a permanent grin fixed to her face and a Dobby with a twitching eyeball. Speaking of his newly bonded elves… “Where will the two of you be staying?”
This thankfully snapped Dobby out of… whatever that was. “Wes still be sleeping in elf nests Harry sir.”
“No sir needed Dobby,” Harry didn’t like the sound of that, he especially didn’t want anyone seeking them out to get to him. “How about we set you both up in here? We can see about another floor or put up dividers-”
Harry was once more tackled by a projectile Dobby.
They were able to section off a chunk of the room on the sixth floor to give Dobby and Winky their individual space. Dobby got to work brick and mortaring off his half of the room which is how Harry learned about magical stone masonry. He now knew for certain he wasn’t going into construction, though Vernon's drill company probably had more to do with it. The project took less than an hour with the help of magic and Dobby had a satisfied nest done in less than a minute, the final touch being the short door that provided further privacy, Harry also cast individual silencing charms on each wall. They would slowly fade but Harry did not want to potentially hear the elves getting up to anything unsavory… What took much longer was the reorganization of Dobby’s sock collection which Harry left him to after helping carry Winky into the elf hut.
Walking back to his room Harry ran into a far too pleased set of magical twins that were doing a terrible job at looking innocent in the stairwell in front of his door. Fred whistled a merry tune while George batted his eyelashes. Gits.
“Do you have anything-”
“To show us?”
Harry really hoped they couldn’t see his blush as he decided to ignore the twins' antics. Opening the door to his room Harry felt inordinately pleased to hear the two intakes of breath from his saviors.
“You did-”
“All of this-”
“In less-”
“Than a DAY?!”
“I had help,” Harry felt like a professional designer as he strolled in gesturing for the twins to take off their shoes at the entryway. Sitting down on his bed Harry was beginning to see his own similarities to a kid on a candy high. This was his space, he had his own room, and he didn’t have to worry about Ron being a jealous little bint. Harry couldn’t stop smiling.
“How-”
“Huh?”
The twins educated responses were inspiring.
“Magic,” Harry thought the reply sufficient enough, after all, it was the truth. Most of it was the elves' handy work but he had tried to pull his fair share for what he was capable of. An accio here, a levitation charm there, the simple spells had been incredibly wonky and he had to reign in a large portion of power, but once he had gotten the hang of the few, simple, spells he had been ready to put his spin on things. His sweat and magic were now a part of his new space and he was beyond pleased with the results. His magic had definitely changed, it was so much harder to control, but Harry just added that to the list of things to figure out.
As the twins finally stopped there gaping and relaxed on the couch Harry waited patiently for their report.
“Right well-”
“I got ahold of Bill-” The twins didn’t think it appropriate to tell Harry that they had used an emergency communication tablet their brother had gifted them. It was a plain clay tablet from Egypt that could only be used once, but it had the ability to transmit messages across the globe to the matching tablet that would receive the writing with a glow. Bill was a beast, but thankfully the twins' hides were safe as he was angry at others for once. Namely whoever was playing games with Harry's life and well being.
“He will be here next weekend-”
“In the meantime-”
“You need to get up to date on-”
“Your status in the wizarding world.”
Fred and George looked on expectantly as if they deserved a treat for doing their trick. Harry wanted to give a different kind of treat than what they were expecting. He really needed to gain control of his hormones.
“So in addition to trying to survive this blasted tournament, I also need to study ‘my place in the wizarding world’ and what the bloody heck my magic is doing?” Harry was not telling Hermione about any of this.
The twins blinked as one as they stared. “What’s wrong with your magic?”
“I came into a surprise inheritance? You knew more about it than me! And earlier I was told by an elf that my core was not stable,” Harry did not like the faces the twins were making at each other. They could at least try to be subtle!
“Okay-”
“Relax Harry-”
“You’re brilliant-” Fred said with a grin before being elbowed by his brother.
“What he means is that you can do well in this tournament-”
“Right, and we will be there to help you!”
Harry hated that he felt relieved by the admission. What kind of world was he living in that he felt he could put his absolute trust in the demon twins? Dobby was rubbing off on him already. Harry didn’t want to let it show how much their support had truly affected him but it was hard as they kept gazing at him with such sincerity.
“Thank you, both of you. I don’t know what I can offer in return but-” Harry was starting to stick his own foot in his mouth. Sincere emotions were hard!
“Nuh-unh-uh Harrykins-”
“You don’t owe us anything-”
“You’re family-”
“And maybe more,” Fred didn’t realize he had let his thought roam free until he felt the elbow to his side from his exasperated brother. “I have to listen to your wanton thoughts about Angelina, you can deal with it! ” Fred could feel the giggle trying to burst free from his chest but alas he was with company that he didn’t want thinking he was entirely insane (just a little bit insane would do nicely).
“Thank you,” Harry managed as he looked down at his lap. How had so much changed in two blasted days? He had somehow managed to trade one close Weasley friend for two. The thought of Ron still hurt like a fresh wound on his soul, but it was getting easier as he justified the separation to himself.
“As for the magic on the frits and new inheritance-”
“We can’t really help all that much-”
“We didn’t really get a huge boost-”
“We are no slouches-”
“But the Weasley family magics just aren’t-”
“What they used to be…”
Harry hated the dark features that crept onto the twins' expressions. It was unnatural for them to be anything but diabolical and untroubled… and handsome.
“And Mom was always adamant-”
“That only dark wizards ever inherit-”
“Anything else.”
Fred rolled his eyes dramatically while George let out a dejected sigh thinking of what else their mother disapproved of.
Harry felt as if his gut had just been sucker punched. Was he… dark? Did that mean he was evil? Was he going to end up just as bad as Voldemort?! He didn’t want to do all those horrible things now, but would he eventually?
“It’s getting late. I’d like to get ready for bed,” Looking at the twins Harry wondered if they would still want to be friends with someone who was ‘dark’.
Fred was momentarily shocked by the apathy in the younger boy’s voice. Just prior to Harry had looked exhausted but relatively decent, of course, Fred always thought the younger boy looked decent since his stay at the Borrow this last summer, but still. Now Harry couldn’t seem to even look them in the eyes as he got up to walk towards the bathroom.
“What did we do?” Both twins asked simultaneously.
Well, this was bad if neither of them could come up with anything. Deciding that Harry may just need some time they reluctantly agreed to leave for the evening. Fred kind of hoped he got to wake Harry up again the next morning, maybe he could get away with jumping on top of him a second time. That is if Dobby didn’t skin him for it. That elf was a menace among menaces.
Alas, it was not meant to be as the emerald-eyed boy had other morning plans percolating. Waking up at six thirty was normally a death sentence for a moody teenage boy but Harry had an agenda this morning motivating him to do the dastardly deed. He got out of bed to start his day.
Knocking politely, because Harry did have manners despite what some professors thought, Harry slowly propped Fred’s door open. “Fred, I’m off to the Great Hall,” Harry peaked his head into the 17-year-old boy’s room only to see the redhead sprawled out on his queen-sized bed, tangled in a web of sheets, clothes askew. Harry felt a small blush grace his cheeks as he stared at the sliver of exposed skin above the freckled boy's waistband. Looking more than propriety allowed Harry was forced to turn away as the older boy stirred slightly.
“Harry..?”
“Yes Fred, I’m off to breakfast.”
“Mm-kay. Wait up, lemme get dressed,” Standing with a groan Harry decided he needed to leave immediately before he started to drool.
“I’ll head down to George’s!” And with that, Harry scampered further down the tower to the last room repeating the same process minus the mouth-watering. Luckily Harry had only developed an attraction to one-half of the demon duo, it would have been a nightmare otherwise. Call him a prude but thirsting over both twins felt slightly morally unconcsiable. Similar to his twin George asked for some time to ready himself before the trio took their leave from the Chaos Forge to the Great Hall. Seven o'clock still wasn't bad timing; Ron would still be in bed.
Harry was expecting stares, whispers, rumors, and gossip. Hogwarts was closed off from the rest of the world and so therefore the student body thrived on any juicy information they could get their grubby hands on. Often times this involved Harry Fucking Potter, and Harry knew that today would be no different. What he hadn’t accounted for was the fact that the masses were denied their fill the day previously and so the anticipation had only grown like a malignant tumor.
Walking through the open doors to the Great Hall Harry thought that this might be the single most populated breakfast Hogwarts had ever seen outside of the first day of the school year. Almost every single house table was completely filled, and adding to the mayhem were the students from the Durmstrang and Beauxbaton delegations.
The chilling silence as people noticed Harry was reminiscent of what he had experienced in his second and third years. Harry hated it.
Walking forward Harry registered the confusion radiating off the twins as he departed from his usual route and instead strut between the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw tables completely avoiding eye contact with the Gryffindors who had initially looked excited by his presence. Stopping directly before the steps to get to the elevated staff tables where the sorting hat might sit Harry turned towards the inhabitants of the Great Hall. Luckily Dumbledore and all Heads of Houses were not yet in attendance at today's meal; this was only in Harry’s favor.
Raising his wand Harry wanted the entire room to hear his words, and a quiet sonorus made sure of it. “I, Harry James Potter, swear on my magic that I did not willingly enter my own name into the Goblet of Fire, nor did I of sound mind coerce or otherwise convince someone else to put my name in the Goblet, I in fact, was entirely against such happenings. Furthermore, I wish to let it be known that I believe whoever has orchestrated this happening is deliberately trying to plot against me, and or wishes for my death. So say I, so mote it be.” Whipping his wand into the air Harry released a lumos maxima that blinded the breakfast tables and himself despite his closed eye lids. He really needed to reign his unruly magic up.
The uproar had the same effect on Harry’s demeanor as if he had been given a standing ovation. Anyone peering at Harry’s face would see unadulterated glee and a smattering of smugness. Let the gossip hounds sink their teeth into that one.
Continuing on with his speech Harry wondered if anyone would truly listen after that bomb shell. His sonorus might not even be enough to overpower the outcry. "If you want to support Hogwarts in this farce of a competition then by all means, put your backing behind Cedric Diggory, the true Champion of Hogwarts." Ending his spell Harry had managed to make peace with himself. People had been properly educated, what they did with that knowledge was up to them.
Harry watched amused as the twins cackled with glee from where they perched at the front of the Gryffindor table, clearly waiting for Harry to finish with his display.
Thankfully Professor Vector was able to gain control of the room and then after prompting from a first year, she explained what an oath on magic meant momentarily turning the Great Hall into a lecture space. Harry for his part hadn’t realized that magic was also capable of weighing his words and if it found him particularly lacking in conviction, candor, or validity then he could also perish as his core imploded into his soul rather than fading from his body. Fun.
Harry sat through breakfast safely tucked away between Fred and George who put a silencing bubble around him. He had to resist the urge to kiss Fred’s cheek when he offered to walk Harry to class, he couldn’t be that easy though, at least not yet…
The week passed by in a blur with various Gryffindor students trying to corner him and members from other houses whispering behind his back. Honestly, this wasn’t that strange all things considered. Notably lacking from the former group were his roommates who had yet to talk with him, except for Neville who had apologized and then paired with him for Herbology. News from the GreT Hall breakfast showdown had clearly spread to the teachers who had not been present. After their work in the greenhouses, Professor Sprout had asked Harry to stay behind only for her to apologize for her prior disbelief. The words seemed empty when Harry realized she wasn’t apologizing for how she had behaved towards him.
After Transfiguration McGonogall had pulled him aside and chastised him for his temporary takeover of the Great Hall. Somewhere in her scolding, she had snuck in her sorrow that he had to compete but remained adamant that he had to represent Gryffindor to the best of his abilities. She then let it slip that the dress robes on the student’s supply lists were for the Yule Ball he would be expected to open and host along with the other champions. There would be dancing lessons starting in December but McGonagall was giving him an early heads-up.
The most surprising occurrence had been in Flitwick’s class. The short professor had explained his worry for Harry’s safety in the tournament before the Charms lesson began. The teacher had managed to endear himself to Harry after he had helped Luna Lovegood in his third year with their work with the centaurs. Flitwick had covertly performed a background check on Harry’s treatment of the Goblins at Gringotts and seemed to like what he had heard as since his third year the teacher had actually taken a special take on the case of Harry Potter. The teacher had made an effort to encourage Harry to do his best in Charms seeing as it was Flitwick's own subject of interest, meaning: the professor was biased and definitely let it show that he wanted Harry to Master in the subject. After class was dismissed, Harry hung back as instructed. Flitwick brought in Professor Vector and Professor Babbling to give him some introductory information on their respective subjects including the basics of wards and how to disassemble and set spells. Flitwick had also made it clear that Harry and his fellow instructors were to keep this quiet. Once his colleagues had left Flitwick started up an amiable conversation with tea and talk of Goblin customs which the Professor was eager to explain to Harry after he had shown some interest. That is how Harry learned that he could wish his Saturday free time away as now… He was going to have dueling practice with an international bloodthirsty dueling champion, otherwise known as Battle Master Flitwick. He had let the twins know and they had planned accordingly with Bill.
Snape had been an even more sour and bitter version of himself. He had decided to sit Harry directly between Crabbe and Goyle’s cauldrons for a solo brew practical. Needless to say it went terribly and Harry walked out with a zero for the day’s potion grade. Gryffindor was lucky that they only left the class missing 100 points.
It was Divination that was the most normal period with Trewlaney even starting to recycle her predictions about Harry’s demise. Astronomy had everyone feeling equally anxious and Care of Magical Creatures remained just as intense as ever. Hagrid was apparently feeling particularly protective of Harry as he took him on as his helper for the class's lesson on the wonders and joys of manticores.
Defense Against the Dark Arts had been equally as cynical as past lectures. Moody had made a valiant effort to corner Harry several times throughout the week but luckily he had managed to evade the ex-auror. He needed to just come up with a list of excuses to get away from the possibly pedophilic chewed up mad man.
A similar story could be told of Hermione whom Harry had hoped to talk with but their small conversation in the library blossomed into a whisper shouting match as she tried to convince him to talk with Ron and scold him for not being more careful with his glasses.
"Harry, I know Ron can be a tough pill to swallow. Of all people, I can understand after what me and crookshanks went through-"
Harry wondered if Hermioned realized that this argument was never going to be resolved? He was done sticking up for the emotionally mangled childlike bully. He had given Ron every chance imaginable and now, he had nothing left. He might as well actively stab himself in the back, at least it would be by his own hand.
"Hermione. I can't forgive him-"
"Oh shush Harry. You'll see. Ron will come around. You just need to give him a chance. He obviously wasn't in control of his actions. And as for your glasses, you aren't exactly the most careful with them- Harry? Harry?"
Harry knew he was being a dick. But he was not liking the tone of Hermione's voice or her incessant need to bark out orders as if she had any rightin how Harry should feel. "I know you have a crush on him Hermione, but this won't be resolved with a reparo." Harry left her in the library, thankful that she didn't try to follow.
Harry had avoided her the rest of the week choosing to sit with anyone else in the great hall including a very handsome Cedric Diggory who had chosen to make a interhouse political point following Harry’s example.
"Hey Harry, can I talk to you?" Cedric said with his easy going smile at full power, showing off his mesmerizing straight, blinding white sparkling teeth. Harry wasn't sure if he wanted to be him or be with him.
"I'm Harry to you now?" Harry wasn't about to ignore Pretty Diggory's clipped tone when they had first convened as champions. It was shocking to see the older boy anything but suave or charming, the way he had said, "Potter," was unatural coming from the pinacle of Hufflepuff kindness.
"Yes about that. I'm- I'm sorry Har- Potter. I'm sorry. I should have believed you, and I didn't. But. If you would let me, I would like to maybe try and make it up to you?"
Harry needed to have a firm discussion with his libido about what appropriate timing was.
Taking in a big breath and making a show of exhaling Harry took a gander at the taller Hufflepuff's face. He was definitely taller! There was no way that he used to meet Diggory's chin! He needed to find a measuring tape. Oh right, conversation.
"Hmm. Maybe we do need to be on first name basis if we are going to survive this blood bath," Harry liked the gulp the blonde released a little to much. "Very well -Cedric- I accept your offer."
Harry slightly regretted verbally signing himself over to the whims of the compassionate boy. He had now eaten breakfast, lunch, and dinner at the Hufflepuff table accompanied by Digoory’s friend group and even several of the Hufflepuffs in his year whom Harry remained on cordial terms with. Susan Bones and Hannah Abbot were for the most part competent witches who didn’t gawk at Harry. Ernie McMillan was a new-ish acquaintance. Previously Harry had thought the boy a milder version of Malfoy but he had proven to not be so headstrong... Harry didn't find him completely unbearable. Luna Lovegood had somehow managed to lure him away to the Ravenclaw table one evening, which of course had the benefit of being one of the most stilted and awkward dinners of his life, and that was saying something considering he had been forced to lick cold soup off of the floor on more than one occasion by his Aunt. When no compatriots from other houses presented themselves Harry sat sandwiched between the twins at Gryffindor who now acted like his guards. Ginny had sat across from him on Thursday’s breakfast but it seemed that her older twin brothers knew how to push every single one of her buttons as she did not return when he came to Gryffindor for lunch and dinner.
By the end of the week, Harry was feeling emotionally exhausted from having to fake a permanent smile as he worked through the days on autopilot. His evening routine had been slightly more tolerable as he worked through some of Dobby’s massive pile of books, the tomes varied in usefulness, why Dobby thought he spoke thirty languages was beyond him, but progress was progress. He had to forbid Winky from consuming alcohol which led to her having a massive hangover and terrible withdrawals. Harry had worked out a tentative plan of recovery with Dobby that the elf had thus far followed with some success.
No one had questioned Harry about where he was staying and after further questioning of Neville Harry realized that outside of his roommates nobody knew he had moved. Neville had assumed Harry was rooming with the twins which Harry made no move to clear up, after all, it was technically true. The biggest struggle Harry had endured was his lack of glasses. Harry knew that his vision wasn’t great even when he did have lenses aiding his vision, but he was good enough to catch a snitch and he thought that was all that mattered. Until it came time to read his notes and he had to spend several hours working on re-reading textbooks, re-writing the aforementioned disgusting notes, and modifying his script so that he could understand his admittedly chicken scratch font. What was even more frustrating was that he couldn’t figure out if he was near or far-sighted; no matter what he focused on everything seemed slightly blurry. He had gotten his muggle prescription so long ago that the knowledge had faded from his memory.
Waking up Saturday morning Harry tried his best to prepare for the day ahead of him. He didn’t know what Flitwick might throw at him but having seen a peeck at his more vicious grins Harry could only hope he would be able to survive the murderous side of his Professor.
The Great Hall that morning was rife with the special edition of Witches Weekly and the Prophet being passed around. Hearing the great amount of whispering and stares his way Harry was horrified by what possible oddities the magazine might have written about him.
Finally frustrated Harry was thankful that Lavender Brown of all people handed him both publications for his perusal. The front page of the paper was damning enough, ‘The Forbidden Champion: The Mystery of Harry Potter’ by Rita Skeeter.
Harry felt as a blood vessel started to tick as he read through the paper. They had managed to capture his oath in the great hall and twist it into him lamenting what evil forces might be conspiring against him and how the student body had rallied around their savior in his time of need, all the while calling into question the competency of the organizers of the tournament. While it was hyperbolic rubbish Harry was ultimately tolerant of the article, he had managed to make it out unscathed for once.
Picking up the next writing source Harry realized where the real drama was coming from, ‘Loving the Fourth Champion,’ by Rita Skeeter. Somehow this Skeeter woman had managed to paint Harry as a desirable young bachelor with a terrible love life as he was fought over by a core group of female students. It included his apparent long-term relationship with Hermione Granger who had apparently recently broken up with him and how Susan Bones and Ginny Weasley were fighting for his affections. The article naturally painted them both as opportunistic gold diggers but Harry once more remained chaste as his heart had yet to recover from his previous breakage. Okay… this was definitely problematic. Looking up Harry noticed a distinct absence of both Susan and Ginny which only left Hermione in the Great Hall where, yes indeed, dozens of glares were directed her way. Sighing Harry knew he had to figure out a way to do damage control but now wasn’t the time. He really needed to figure out law suits in the wizarding world. Escaping the Great Hall with a breakfast sandwich Harry had things to do he didn't need much motivation to leave the Great Hall though. He had been severely warned that any future speeches resulting in mutiny would have him seeing serious repercussions so he needed another method to set the record straight and receive his desired retirbution.
Flitwick had left instructions attached to one of Harry’s homework assignments, charmed so that only Harry could read the notes. Once more Harry was led to a disused part of the castle, luckily it was at least cleaned regularly. Harry shuddered at the thought of all the dust that still surrounded the Chaos Forge.
Opening the door to the room where he would be given additional lessons Harry quickly slammed it shut as a fireball was lobbed his way. Ducking for cover Harry hoped the door would hold.
“You can come in now Mr. Potter,” Professor Flitwick said as the door flew open from the inside.
Grumbling, Harry got up only to see a bright and smiling Flitwick standing on a stool. “Well done Mr. Potter. Far too many wizards get caught up in fancy spell work when sometimes a simple dodge is all that is needed.”
Harry wondered if it was too late to transfer to Ilvermorny in the USA.
Walking forward Harry found himself immediately trapped mid-step as he slowed down to a snail's pace. What is it now?!
“I see you have not yet had a chance to read through any of Professor Vector or Babbling's supplemental reading?” Flitwick said with a cheeky grin.
Harry mentally grumbled as he had put the books off thinking he should figure out his strange new Inheritance before something uncontrollable happened or some irrevocable step he wasn't aware of occured. He had started seeing a unicorn in the mirror in his morning reflection and he could have sworn his eyes had looked yellow the other day at night. Scales had popped up on his forearm, his hair had turned into bristles while he tried combing it, and his teeth felt particularly pointy for the past two days. He didn't know what sort of business was happening with his Druidic powers but it was clear that some force was stirring in him and he needed to learn to control it sooner rather then later. All very frightening signs.
Luckily Harry wasn't completely ignorant. The one children's book Harry had found useful from Dobby's pile happened to depict several kinds of Druids. The Necrotic variant seemed to have powers relating to animals they had killed or who had gifted their deaths to the Druid. What the bloody hell that meant Harry didn't know. Back in the moment Harry knew he had sorely messed up by not figuring out a replacement set of glasses. He needed to learn, and quickly, or else he was going to be absolutely and utterly screwed, and not in any pleasurable way his teenage brain concocted late at night.
Creeping through the jello-like substance Harry hoped his instructor didn’t expect an answer, he wasn’t physically capable of formulating one at the moment.
“Well if that is the case perhaps it best we start with a lesson on surveillance and traps-”
Harry was terrified.
Notes:
Another Chapter is completed! This was really fun to write, I hope it is equally enjoyable to read. I will be exploring so much more with this story, I'm so excited. (I have no beta and this is my second fanfic, so some things will be a learning curve).
Comments are of course cherished and appreciated.
Chapter 4: Thoughts on Secrecy
Chapter Text
Filius Flitwick was not one to concern himself with petty drama and squabbles, he was loathe to get involved in the opera of his coworker's composition, and even more so despised the machinations of Dumbledore, the meddlesome goat would do well to remember that Filius had twenty years on him!
Seeing Severus and Minerva at each other's throats each year had its moments. But the one thing he wouldn’t turn an eye to was the well-being of the students. While he was somewhat detached from the whims of youth he always made an effort to look over his pupils with the respect they deserved, never one to let bias swindle him. He liked to think he was fair to the student body at large and that in turn the young ones felt comfortable around him, especially the eagles he cared for. But every now and then a student came to him that he knew he would break his teaching contract for, and even a few war treaties.
One such example was Harry Potter. The boy was thinner than some of the first years despite being 16, he was most obviously abused and neglected despite Minerva and Albus’s placations and Severus’s snarling. Of course, he didn’t think their words had any merit and he had cornered the boy first year under the pretense of reviewing his Charms work. One short conversation was enough to know that the boy should never return to his muggle relatives again without the direct issue ever having been brought up. The boy had relished any small praise he offered and had recoiled at several key phrases, namely the word ‘boy’ which no matter the context seemed to have the young child flinch to the point that he had almost hit his head against the backrest of the chair.
Though saddened and beaten down Filius had worked on endearing himself to the boy and had progressed well. All that changed in the young one’s third year when he had unfortunately made the wrong call. The situation with the centaurs was still a blemish on his records, being half goblin himself he should have been more conscious of their plight. That year a centaur fowl had been kidnapped by the Defense Professor, Filius had incorrectly backed Professor Whitlegrove thinking that her genius was surely proof enough that she would not do something so foolish. He had been wrong and clouded by the intellectual prowess of his colleague. The two students to have ultimately rectified the situation were none other than Harry Potter and Luna Lovegood, both students he had managed to fail. Harry for breaking the boy's trust, and Luna for not having seen the bullying in his own house that she experienced.
All of the child's fourth year he had tried to make amends and slowly a tumultuous relationship was rekindled. No longer would the young man come over for tea and cookies, but Filius could make do hoping that he would be allowed to continue to nurture the young one's talent and offer him what support he could. He had tried broaching the subject of Harry’s living situation each month for the last few years, making inquiries at the Ministry, asking Poppy if she had done a proper physical on the boy as should be expected of any student coming in from the muggle world, and yes, he had even resorted to trying to contact several of his brethren. But it was all in vain. When the topic was broached with young Harry himself Filius was never able to get a word from the closed lips. So he resigned himself to continuing in his shadowy efforts to free the young man, and made sure to never address him as ‘boy’.
Now, here he was, star pupil tentatively back under his wing. There was no doubt that the boy’s grades left something to be desired, while his practical work was brilliant his commitment was lackluster. But Filius had to be pragmatic, the boy had a death trap of a tournament to compete in. And he wasn’t even able to detect Filius’s honey-jar spell…The sweet aroma in the air should have been indicator enough, but a bad day for the nostrils could be looked over if one was to notice the slight yellow tinge in the air signifying this particular trap spell used to capture bears, giant ants, and underprepared students.
Looking at the boy slowly sinking through the noeyed air Filius couldn’t help but let out a chuckle. This was going to be brutal fun, the determination radiating out of the emerald green eyes had the air tensing. Fun indeed.
________________________
Bill Weasley had not been back to Hogwarts since his own graduating year. While it was nice to see the castle it would have been more rewarding under nearly any other pretenses. Fred and George had used one of the tablets he had gifted the duo several years ago and he had not been pleased to see the story that was unfolding before him.
Harry seemed like a good kid, he had finally met the famous boy during the summer and overall he could easily see why his younger brother was so smitten. Fred had not exactly been subtle when he had ogled the sweaty teen after their pick-up quidditch match. Harry was completely oblivious to the drooling maniac, and Bill was only just barely vindictive enough to not aid his fumbling brother.
But things were different now. For one, somebody had some bloody explaining to do.
Just in their brief correspondence, Bill was made aware of potential line theft, illegal mail wards, and fraudulent banking activity. Not even including the stern talk he was planning for Ronald, Bill was furious just on the grounds of his brothers being buffoons!
What was even more mind-boggling was the complete lack of knowledge on the topic from the twins. Bill was the eldest child but his father was not. Arthur was the third son of Septimus Weasley and Cedrella Weasley nee Black; both of Arthur’s older brothers had multiple children, and as such none of Arthur’s children had ever had to put much emphasis on learning the expected protocols regarding heirship. Bill himself should have been put under some training but Arthur had refused stating a disconnect with the Weasley family magic. Bill hated the decision but he was ultimately not able to go against it. He had never been close to his grandparents, what with his more blase attitude towards the politics of Britain, and so the decision was set. The twins, on the other hand, were a different story.
The Weasley family was strictly patriarchal, with the title going down the bloodline from father to eldest son and in the case of death or otherwise being ill-suited, the next son, and the next. The Weasleys had no lack of brood, Ginny was still the only Weasley girl born in the last hundred years. The Prewitts however were different with the head of the house passing from magical twins to magical twins. The last Prewitt Lords had been Bill’s uncles, Fabian and Gideon who had died in the last war when Bill had been a kid. Shortly after Fred and George were born. Despite their last name Fred and George were next in line by the magic of House Prewitt, and upon their inheritance, it was expected for them to take the name.
Bill still remembered when Aunt Muriel had insisted the twins take over the lordship but Molly and Arthur had refused. Fred and George had still been in nappies when the falling out had occured but Bill remembered the venom Muriel had spewed at his parents. Bill could see why his fearful parents chose to shelter the twins while they were still at war, but over the years they had still held firm on their opinion and made sure to forbid him or Muriel from clueing in the twins to their status. Charlie and Percy had both been too young to really know what had happened. But all that changed when the twins turned 17 last year, now as legal adults with OWLs under their belt they could do as they please. Bill had sent them several letters and had assumed they had received them, he knew that Muriel had done the same. Clearly, he should have looked deeper into why they had never sent any replies.
Arriving at the Three Broomsticks in Hogsmeade as expected Bill was unpleasantly surprised when he felt hands creep up behind his chair gagging and manhandling him into a dark corner of the room. Luckily for the little devils, Bill was able to recognize their clammy hands instantly. He still bit one of their fingers for their insolence. He was a curse breaker who had managed to be snuck up on, he felt justified in his indignation and though he wouldn’t admit it, his own pettiness crept through.
“Ouch!” George hissed as he shook the injured hand in the air.
Fred for his part stifled his laughter as the twins made shushing noises at each other and Bill while they slowly crept into the cellar. It was evident that the twins had been working on their notice-me-not charms. Each creak of the floorboard shot through Bill’s body reminding him of the days he used to sneak out of the Burrow. He needn’t have worried as the occupants of the bar and restaurant seemed utterly unaware of the commotion.
Hauling himself down a hole in the ground Bill worried his hands about hoping that once the trapdoor was closed they could get some lights on. His only solace was that he couldn’t detect any malicious magical intent coming from the hole and his intent-based ward had yet to be triggered. He had enough experience in tombs to be cautious of walking into any room period without seeing ahead. While he trusted the twins to be serious when it mattered he couldn’t help but feel his hackles rise.
Luckily as the door closed three lumos-tipped wands went up and Bill found himself staring at his two lanky brothers, faces planted with shit-eating grins. The dorks.
Catching up while going down the shaft Bill appreciated the lightheartedness for what it was. A distraction from the shit that was about to go down. Each step in the earthen tunnel seemed to reverberate back through Bill’s body as the tension grew in his temples. Soon his muscles would be as stiff as the solid beams holding up the ceiling of this mysterious entrance to the school.
Bill tried to keep track of the many forks and turns but he knew he would be lost getting back without the twins.
Finally, the ground turned from trodden dirt to crumbling gravel and then slowly gradiated into brick, they were in the castle. Bill was barely saved from walking head-first into a wall by Fred’s quick grasp, a wag of his finger had Bill sighing in good nature used to the twins' theatrics.
“If our little duckling is feeling more cuckoo, I wonder how he will react to…” Letting his words trail off George looked disturbed as he exited into the main corridor from the tunnel.
Now in familiar territory, Bill felt more sure of his step. That didn’t stop him from casting several more silent spells to make sure that his presence remained undetected in the castle. Hogwarts wards were old, but Dumbledore was never good at reading them as far as Bill could remember from his school days. Of course, the twins had to take that small composure away from him as they quickly went down a long abandoned corridor into parts unknown. Rats.
Staring at his brothers now as he waited in their strange tower workshop Bill wondered where to start. His stomach felt like it was churning gravel as he chewed over his words trying to think of any other plausible reason for their ignorance.
__________________________
Harry was thoroughly exhausted after his training session. Flitwick had shown him the back side of his eyelids on more than one occasion as he had needed to be resuscitated no less than three times.
His body was achy, his joints felt like they had been picked apart and then glued together using tar, and his shirt felt like it had been welded to his skin by his own sweat. But the reality check was worth it, now he could go into this tournament fully knowing he was incompetent having all hope squashed from his feeble body.
And of course, he had a conversation/interrogation to look forward to with none other than William Weasley, rugged curse breaker and intimidating older brother of his kind-of-crush (it was definitely a crush).
Hopefully, he would be allowed a shower before things really got heated. Walking through the misty door of the Chaos Forge Harry felt like he had already jinxed himself as immediately a wave of cursing washed over him.
Standing in the back of the room pacing in a circle was an angry Bill Weasley practically foaming at the mouth while George stirred a cup of tea and Fred rubbed at his own temples sprawled out over a couch that hadn’t been there just earlier this morning.
Groaning Harry prepared himself for what was sure to be a grueling battle of a different nature than what he had experienced earlier in the day.
“Harry,” Fred let out a short breath as he sat up. His feet not willing to budge from their spot tucked under the cushion had Fred rolling from the couch.
“Oh thank fuck-” George muttered as he leaned back in his ‘office’ chair, kicking his feet up to rest, somehow managing to look just as undignified as his twin groaning on the ground.
Bill for his part looked like he was barely holding it together as he foamed at the mouth only barely acknowledging Harry’s presence. Well, this is going to be a blast…
_______________________
Thankfully Fred hadn’t had to stun his older brother. He honestly wasn’t sure if he was even capable of taking on the older wizard. He was handy with a wand (in more ways than one) but unfortunately, he was vastly outmatched by his curse-breaking, goblin-trained, badass, brooding brother.
Bill settled down after he saw a sweaty Harry. Bill’s thoughts had probably been a noble worry. Fred’s thoughts had been less… pure. But come on! Harry’s WHITE undershirt was sticking to his body and the top couple of buttons were popped open in just the right way. He silently cursed himself once again for promising George that he would wait until Harry turned 17 before making any true advances on him. George thought it the chivalrous path but Fred was ready to through pious thoughts to the wind and propose right now to the younger teen in front of him.
Snapping himself out of his internal ramblings Fred tried to pay attention to whatever it was Bill was ranting about. Harry for his part looked like he had all the lights on in the house but none of them were pointed at anything of use. What he remembered from this little rant would be established tomorrow because there was no doubt now that Bill would have to spend the night.
Fred and George had expected some new information pertaining to Harry’s precarious position. But of course, Bill had to pull the rug out from under them and dump an extra large bucket of dung over their heads.
They were Lords with a bloody capital ‘L’! They were supposed to be the heads of an entire family… Granted the Prewitts weren’t nearly as prolific as the Weasley clan when it came to populating the tree. Small mercies Fred supposed.
Just off the top of his head the few Prewitt’s Fred knew of weren’t exactly the friendliest of sorts, but now that he knew the full story Fred could piece together that it was because the Prewitt’s were apparently angry and bitter at his mum and dad. Bugger.
That was another sore spot. His mum especially had always been a bit… controlling. She seemed to have a plan for each of their lives, and was damned to ignore their wishes and ‘free will’. Fred knew she meant the best but the overbearing hold she had on them all sometimes felt like a strangulation and less of a guiding push. It was at the very least a hindrance to his and George’s goals of opening their shop. They had lost half their stock this last summer in one of their mom’s raids when she had seized their products as contraband and burned the lot of it. It had hurt more than Fred would care to admit but he had to live with it. His dad wasn’t really much better. Occasionally he would stick up for them but at the end of the day, he seemed to agree that all Fred and George’s dreams were fanciful wishes.
Fred always assumed that it was a way that his parents tried to look out for them. Money was tight, and with a family as large as theirs everything seemed to always boil down to finances. Fred had widdled the thoughts out from a young age, his parents’ vested interest in all of their future careers stemmed from their own money insecurities and wanting to make sure that they lived decent lives without worrying about pinching knuts or scrounging up galleons.
But then why would his mother continue to funnel all her efforts into pushing for ministerial positions? Arthur had a job as a department head and his paycheck certainly wasn’t anything special.
Was it a fear of something else or another deep-seated prejudice? Fred didn’t know. Just like Fred didn’t know how his parents could possibly justify a mail ward on him and George now that he was a legal adult. He knew that it had to have been them. The Burrow was not a very attractive home to most people, but it was an ancient house lived in for generations by various off-branch Weasleys. It was Arthur’s graduation gift from his parents. While the wards were nothing compared to the official Weasley seat of power they were still nothing to snuff at. Any undesirable personal affix spells cast on someone with Weasley blood would have been picked up by the wards. So either Fred and George had been spelled by their parents, or their parents had neglected to do anything about it. Either option felt like a punch to the gut.
On top of Bill’s own drama-filled approach (he had most definitely lost some of his social graces hanging around with his rowdy bunch of deranged witches, wizards, and other magical practitioners), Harry had of course released several bombshells about the INNOCENT Black family fugitive and an off the leash werewolf Remus Lupin who were apparently the original Marauders and both on the run. Bloody hell, this was going to be a rough night.
________________________
“Sirius. We have to,” Remus was done listening to the canine animagus’s whining - they were not safe in the Wolf Lodge anymore.
After Remus’s early end at Hogwarts the previous school year he had managed to track down Sirius in a cave structure they had once used as a hideout back during the last war. It was situated on a small rocky island north of Scotland and barely one step above Azkaban, but it was an unknown to the ministry. Just a regular muggle island protected by its own natural landscape and a shit load of explosives Sirius had rigged up when he was fresh out of the Auror training camp. Luckily Sirius was still lacking a wand and unable to completely hide himself from Remus’s keen senses, he had Sirius’s scent ingrained in his olfactory bulb at this point.
Remus had vetoed a continued stay on the weather-torn island after Sirius's health continued at its stagnant recovery even with July being the peak of warmth for the coastal island. Remus knew that Sirius needed much more than rest and relaxation, his body had suffered greatly over his stint in the British Ministry’s twisted version of prison. Both his mind and body had been shattered and had yet to rebound. Passing Harry’s birthday by as a convicted man had devastated the withered animagus, Remus couldn’t help but reciprocate the pain. All those years he had wondered and hoped for Harry, his pup, to be okay. Every birthday and holiday card he sent he wished for some sort of sign or if he was bold, even a small letter in return, but none had ever come.
The teaching position at Hogwarts had been wonderful, save for Dumbledore’s contractual clause prohibiting Remus from developing any personal relationship with Harry whilst a member of staff. Not that he hadn’t tried to pick up on things despite the old man’s machinations. The complete lack of acknowledgment from the young boy had at first been painful, his wolf had wrecked his mind when he hid on the train and finally got a glimpse of his long-lost pack mate. The wolf had been denied its fill of familial affection that day as Remus kept his distance and he had suffered for it the night of the full moon when, despite the Wolf’s Bane potion, Moony decided to make Remus’s transformation the worst of his life.
It didn’t take long for Remus to realize that Harry’s life was not what he had been led to believe. The rags he wore, his scrawny figure, the way he flinched at certain phrases, it didn’t take a genius to figure it out. He had of course confronted both Minerva and Albus but they had brushed his concerns away as if he was some overzealous Boy-Who-Lived fanatic and not Harry’s gods damn family in all but blood! Though through with the establishment, Remus was left to play by their rules and so he did his best to drop small hints to the boy who never knew of the care Remus had desperately tried to show him. A mail ward was the most likely culprit, but if his cards were never returned to him that meant that someone had been collecting them for quite some time. Either that or his apparently awful ‘relatives’ had kept Harry ignorant of more than just magic.
Either way now that he knew of Harry’s situation it only brought more pain as his birthday passed by and yet again, he was unable to be there for his precious pup. Not even a lousy letter could be allowed as now he knew that one, the letter wouldn’t reach the boy, and two the owl might be tracked back to them. He had to promise Sirius that they would do everything in their power for his precious godson, but it was difficult to get any meaningful conversation out of the man when his theatrics started to come out. Finally, as the unusual August’s heat bloomed, watered by the tears of two old men morning what should have been, they left the island intent on getting anywhere moderately less miserable.
They had to forsake their usual haunts, avoiding any places that would be too obviously associated with Sirius. A quick detour was taken on the outskirts of a magical forest in a small pocket of Yorkshire to release Buckbeak back into the wild where the hippogriff would hopefully flourish. Afterward they had flown through a series of small muggle sheds, a barn, and even at one point a half sunken boat that offered just enough protection from the elements for them to justify its use as a shelter, if it could even be considered that.
With autumn creeping up as August turned to September they knew they were running out of options. Remus had finally succumbed to his less-than-stellar good consciousness and brought them to his family’s ancestral home. The Wolf Lodge had never been grand, it had in fact been reduced to rubble on multiple occasions just in Remus’s short life - the Lupin’s made enemies like the Malfoy’s made bribes. But the lodge was warm, and with a roof over their heads the last of the marauders couldn’t possibly complain.
The wards of the Wolf Lodge left something to be desired, once more Remus cursed himself for not having the foresight to bolster the defenses of his own home. While the location was now impossible for a werewolf to penetrate (except for himself) it was still very open to the ever-prying Ministerial eyes. They had already been in the lumber cottage for three weeks and Remus was growing antsy, each day that passed had more of his hackles on the rise.
With Sirius his transformations had been some of the best he had had in years, Padfoot at his side Remus’s wolf had been skipping in glee. Remus' struggle with the beast had only been amplified during the school year as it howled in his mind for him to spend even more time with their pup outside of the Patronus lessons. Harry, Harry, Harry… The young man kept creeping into the duos' thoughts. He was the ever-present sore spot. Remus was never going to be able to forgive himself for what he had allowed to happen to his pup… or his packmate. Now that Remus was letting the wolf roam unhindered it was repaying him in kind by not being such a moody little deviant trying to chew his brain to bits in-between full moons.
Convincing Sirius of his plan had been like trying to instruct a toddler to eat a particularly fowl plate of their least favorite vegetable. Finally, he had broken through Sirius's thick skull; they spotted a wizard in the area around the cabin and they both knew it was time to go. The Wolf Lodge was compromised and it was now October, they needed a base of operations and a permanent roof over their heads.
Grimwauld Place was never Sirius’s home, only his parent’s house. He had made that abundantly clear ever since Remus had met him in their first year at Hogwarts. But it was old, several hundred years old, with magic woven into the structure's foundations that took great glee in dispatching any enemies to the Black townhouse. The location was borderline sentient and had picked up on the Black family's bloodthirstiness. With both of Sirius’s parents dead, it was uninhabited and a safe location for them to finally hunker down in.
Luckily the wards had still accepted Sirius, the animagus had never known whether he had been disowned, disinherited, or truly smacked from the Black’s lineage altogether. It seems that Walburga had more bark than bite - although her bite had never been something to ignore. Or perhaps Orion had finally grown a spine and defended his eldest son from his shrewd wife? Maybe Regulus’s death had struck a chord in the cold man’s shriveled heart. Whatever the case Remus now stood with Sirius inside of the entryway of the of the London house staring at the most wrinkled and disgusting house elf he had ever seen.
“Kreacher?!”
______________
Remus hated playing mediator between children, he was laid back, empathetic, and tried to be insightful and pragmatic when handling disputes. So far he had broken up five fights between Sirius and Kreacher this week! (it was only Tuesday). He was going to mount both their heads to the gaudy stairwell wall at this rate. A temporary truce had so far been the only thing saving him from an incredible migraine.
They had managed to clean up Sirius’s old room and a guest room, thankfully Kreacher was prideful enough for Remus to goad him into cleaning the kitchen and attached dining room, but other than that the house was filthy. Walburga had apparently developed a dirt-mongering habit in her insanity because even if the place had been uninhabited since her death there was no way this much debris should have been able to build up.
The screaming portrait of the banshee women chose that moment to set off and Remus was ready to take it all back and see if they could room with Buckbeak in the forest.
He had tried convincing Sirius several times now to take up control of Grimmauld’s wards to no avail, the animagus was adamant that he wanted nothing to do with his childhood home. But unfortunately, the townhouse wasn’t offering up much of a choice. Their first few days had been alright, minus Kreacher trying to poison both of them. The pesky elf had even taken a liking to polishing the black family silverware and setting the table with it. The only thing he had cleaned willingly without coercion.
After the initial settling period, the house had grown… antsy. It had been some time since Remus had managed to complete his Defense and Battle Magics Mastery program but he still remembered enough about wards to know that the ancient home was in the process of rejecting them. The place had opened up to Sirius with open arms and must not have seen Remus as much of a threat seeing as the Black heir was bringing him along. But each day that the house went without someone keyed to it was an insult.
Yesterday morning Remus had been walking down the stairs only for his next step to disappear. Luckily he was near the bottom of the staircase - without his morning chocolate milk no amount of werewolf instincts would have saved him from a higher fall.
Sirius had taken a shower only for the water to turn scalding hot no matter which direction he tried to turn the water (thankfully the Blacks had updated the plumbing of the building in the fifties when the neighborhood became increasingly surrounded by muggles). No cooling charm seemed to work on the enchanted water and Sirius had even gone through the effort to get Orion’s wand from the master bedroom. The Black heir came from the ordeal singed and raw all at once.
There were other small things as well that Remus knew weren’t just Kreacher’s doing such as the drawers rearranging themselves or his slippers always flying under the bed when he tried to put them on in the morning. The house wanted its master to claim it, unfortunately, Sirius was not ready to play into the murderous house’s hands.
Remus had tried, he really had, but Sirius was adamant that it was fine. It was in fact not fine.
Remus saw the aches in his friend's body. Despite the abundance of food in the Black house that had been kept under stasis neither man ate much, Remus knew his own issues with food with the wolf constantly battling his appetite and his previously meager pay, but Sirius seemed physically unable to keep anything over a few small bites down. Each glance in the mirror was a reminder of what Remus had become, a waifish decrepit caricature of what he should have been. His cheeks had become hollow once more, Hogwarts had managed to put some additional meat on his bones but all that work unraveled as anxiety gnarled away at his body. His blonde hair was flecked with more silver than gold at this point and his eyes…
When he had still thought he might have a chance at love he had been told by several of his potential suitors that he had gorgeous eyes. Their unique amber color was thanks to Moony, Remus knew that before the bite he had soft hazel-green irises. But he wasn’t about to complain about the one good thing the wolf provided him. Now each visit to the bathroom showed what his eyes looked like now. The orbs were full of desperation, paranoia, and a completely unhealthy smattering of existential dread. That morning he had the same reminder as he shaved his face, luckily it wasn’t an enchanted mirror, a small mercy granted to him.
Sirius was somehow worse. Even wearing his old clothes his bony figure poked through in the oddest of ways. His once gorgeous black hair now flowed into a matted dull mop. His face was sunken as if the clay used to sculpt his once aristocratic features had hardened and moistened only to slowly melt and crack apart.
This morning didn’t prove to be any different from the mornings before. Remus was in the kitchen which was already dangerous, thankfully he knew it was hard to screw up beans and toast. He knew that Sirius would complain about the lack of bacon but Remus didn’t give a flying fuck at this point. He was high-strung and feeling a fair bit vindictive. Kreacher must have been rubbing off on him. That or the house was actually emanating with darkness and it was infecting his soul. Either possibility was plausible.
As Sirius moodily stalked in from the parlor Remus wondered if things could change at this rate. He wasn’t getting through to Sirius, and with the current trajectory, the pair wouldn’t be making it to Samhain let alone Yule.
Sitting down to eat the usual argument started up slower than usual.
“I don’t see why we can’t write him Moony-” Sirius whining had taken on a raspy note. Remus would have to remind him to drink some water.
“Sirius. How many times do I have to tell you to get the message into that thick skull of yours?!” Slamming his hand into the table even Remus was startled by how harsh his tone came across.
“Well maybe if you actually bothered to give more than your bloody cryptic bull shite I would be inclined to believe you!” Sirius snapped back as he shoved his plate to the side, beans and toast forgotten.
“And for the last time. You won't even bother to listen to me so why should I waste my breath?!” Remus near hissed at his friend. Sirius for his part was doing his best imitation of Snape’s glare, and what was worse was that he was rather good at the snarling expression.
“I’m not a child!” Sirius words were laced with a venom consistent with words he had voiced in this house on multiple occasions previously.
“Then stop fucking acting like it!” Remus was breathing hard, and with the way his blood was pumping, he knew he needed to get control of himself before things escalated.
But it was for naught as Remus felt a slap across his face.
The fight finally stopped once both men were too battered to continue. Remus had the advantage of being marginally healthier than his companion, but Moony was on Sirius's side and of course jumped at the chance to put Remus down.
So now they lay on the ground, dining room destroyed, bloodied, and beaten. Remus felt an odd satisfaction as he reworked his knuckles which were an interesting combination of blue bruises and red flaky blood.
Something was wrong. Remus knew it and judging by the look on his face Sirius knew it as well. Remus had never been so quick to temper with his pack, and Sirius for all his faults was not as rage-filled as his hot-headed tendencies implied.
But without any knowledge of the workings of Grimwauld Place Remus had no idea what could be the cause outside of stir craziness and depression.
“Dumbledore,” Remus said out loud as he cast episky at Sirius's very crooked nose, feeling a small amount of satisfaction at the Black’s hissed pain.
“What are you on about?”
“Dumbledore,” Remus had a choice to make. He hadn’t trusted Sirius enough the first time and that had been his mistake. He might as well trust him now, “I believe that Albus has had some hand in keeping Harry ignorant.”
The narrowing of Sirius's eyes was not an easy sign to read. Remus continued despite the assessment, “I tried to keep in touch with him. Letters, attempts to visit, even offered to send any money I could come up with. I never got word back from him, I was flat out refused visitation rights, and Dumbledore made it clear I was not to continue my efforts.”
Remus leaned his head back and tried to ignore the way it made the throbbing in his back worse. “I took the teaching gig out of desperation. Fourteen years with no contact, not a whiff of my pup save for what they put in the papers. But the bloody Prophet-”
Sirius snorted which Remus took as a good sign. He wouldn’t dare look his friend in the eye, not as he tried his best to not seem like a loon pointing fingers at an authority figure.
“I wanted to see my pup! But Dumbledore, he-” finger quoting his words Remus continued, “No contact with Harry outside of an academic setting or in any way not befitting of the typical teacher-student relationship,” words coming out as gravel now, “Bloodquill binding.”
The small inhale of air was satisfying to hear. Maybe Sirius wasn’t as thick-skulled as he let on. Bloodquills were used for official documents that required a small sample of blood to carry a person's magic and hold them liable. Sirius was a pureblood and would have been raised knowing the seriousness (no pun intended) that a bloodquill called for. In no way should they be taken lightly, but it was highly questionable to use one for something like a teaching contract.
“The first time I spoke to Harry I realized he had no idea who I was. Throughout the year it became obvious he didn’t know anything about us or James and Lils-”
Remus knew he was working himself into a rant but he couldn’t stop. The lid on the metaphorical cookie jar had been knocked off, and the jar was full of chocolate chip cookies (Remus’s weakness).
He kept going letting his internal anguish flow out of him only to finally break down as he realized that he had trusted Dumbledore for so long. The man had let him into school, gave him accommodations he couldn’t have dreamed of. When Sirius had been taken into captivity the only person who he would listen to was Dumbledore. But now… Remus didn’t know anymore.
Finished with his oration Remus wondered why he had even bothered to hide his concerns. Laying out all the evidence it felt more and more likely that Dumbledore was weaponizing incompetence and holding information as leverage. Remus needn’t have worried about Sirius’s reaction, the animagus was apparently swayed in the first few sentences. But it was nice to have someone to rant to and Sirius had been a good sport about listening to Remus’s hysterics.
Sitting down in the doxie-infested parlor Sirius popped open a ridiculously expensive bottle of bourbon and finally the duo allowed their mental walls to crumble. It was only noon, but Remus wasn’t about to let propriety stop him from bonding with his pack. The afternoon ticked by easily as the last of the original marauders (the ones that counted) voiced their grievances and remorse. Remus didn’t realize how on edge he had been with Sirius. It was weird to be on the mend. But even weirder to be absolutely sloshed.
Remus was having the time of his life.
“Its- its- its-”
Sirius gigled aloud but Remus kept going anyway.
“This fucking house right?” Now Remus couldn’t contain his own laughter as they stumbled through the dank hallway on one of the upper floors, Remus hadn’t kept track of the stair flights.
Oddly the house seemed easier to navigate. Usually, Remus found himself confused by the odd layout after the first two floors but now it almost seemed like they were following a straight path.
“Oh my god. Father’s study,” Sirius chuckled maniacally as he wonkily skipped through the hall to the looming door. So that's where they were going, Remus hadn't realized.
Remus’ vision swirled as he followed along staring at the Black family insignia. Maybe he shouldn’t have drunk so much, the birds almost looked like they were staring at him. And wow he was tired. Who put the floor there?
____________________
Waking up was a chore as Remus tried to loosen his stiff muscles and shake the fog from his brain.
“Five more minutes-”
What the hell? Peaking one eye open Remus realized that he was in fact. Sleeping in the hall, what kind of foolishness had he let himself get up to? Beside him was a small pile of vomit that smelt of the liquor from the day prior. Looking for the source of the sound Remus noticed the only open door in the hallway. Sprawled on a couch was a half-naked Sirius covered in bruises and a small bit of blood.
Once more Remus couldn’t help but ask himself: what the hell happened?
Half walking half crawling Remus came to a halt as he stared at the rearranged office. Apparently Sirius had some fun redecorating his father’s study, which entailed trashing the place. But, sitting in the middle of the large ornate desk, was an unmistakable sight.
Sirius as a boy had lamented the crows and ravens that seemed to mark every aspect of his life, the Black townhouse was full of feathers all the way down to the foundations. Remus hadn’t realized this meant the wards. But sure enough, sitting on the table was a metal bird, similar to an animatronic an enchanter might turn into a stymphalian. The large difference was the bird's eyes which appeared to be some kind of black stone, possibly onyx or jet. And radiating off the bird was the unmistakable aura of Grimmauld Place. Smeared along the bird’s sharp tail feathers and beak was blood, Sirius’s blood. The house had gotten its wish. Sirius in all his rage at his family had managed to accept the wards of Grimmauld place.
This should have been a cause for celebration. With the wards in his control, Sirius would be able to prevent the house from ejecting them. But a strange foreboding filled Remus’s mind as he gazed into the black eyes of the metal raven that seemed to be looking back with a great level of intelligence. Fuck.
_____________________
So the dog star is back under the Black wings- and he brought a commoner to play with. But what to do...
The House of Black was at a precipice, he had been too lenient in the last war, and that had cost the family greatly. He had given leeway to his fool of a son and his meddlesome wife, he had approved marriage contracts that spelled doom and emptied multiple vaults for dowries, and had nearly lost the bloodline. But if the stars were anything to go by the crossroads was still not too long back to turn around and revisit past decisions.
An heir and a spare was the first step back in reassessing events and plans. But if there was one thing Arcturus wasn't about to do is let this tantalizing opportunity go to waist.
Notes:
I'm not completely happy with this chapter but it is here, I may be revising it at a later date. Just a clarifier I am trying to stay away from the more well-known tropes in the HP fandom. For example, the goblins are going to come into play but they are not a fix-all (and maybe not even on Harry's side).
Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter! I am introducing a lot of information but I am hoping that it still flows with the overarching narrative I'm trying to build. I have a tentative Black Family tree that I am working from (it's not the same as canon) but it looks like crap so that isn't being posted anytime soon. Leave a comment if you like, I enjoy reading through people's thoughts!
I'm hoping in the next chapter I can speed things up and get to the first trial but we shall see!
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